THE   TIDES    OF 
BARNEGAT 


BOOKS    BY    F.    HOPKINSON    SMITH 

PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNEB'S  SONS 

The  Tides  of  Barnegat.    Illustrated.    12mo  ....  $1.50 
The  Wood  Fire  in  No.  3.    Illustrated.    12mo    .    .    .     1.50 

At  Close  Range.    Illustrated.    12ino 1.50 

Colonel  Carter's  Christmas.    Illustrated.    12mo .    .    1.50 

The  Under  Dog.    Illustrated.    12mo 1.50 

The  Fortunes  of  Oliver  Horn.    Illustrated.   12mo   .    1.50 


LUCY   HUNG   BACK   UNTIL  THE  LAST. 


page  44 


THE  TIDES  OF 
BAENEGAT 


BY 

F.    HOPKINSON    SMITH 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 

GEORGE   WRIGHT 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1906 


COPTBIOHT,  1905,  1906,  BY 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


Published  August,  1906 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  DOCTOR'S  GIG 1 

II.  SPRING  BLOSSOMS 18 

III.  LITTLE  TOD  FOGARTY 45 

IV.  ANN  GOSSAWAY'S  RED  CLOAK 61 

V.  CAPTAIN  NAT'S  DECISION 84 

VI.  A  GAME  OF  CARDS 98 

VII.  THE  EYES  OF  AN  OLD  PORTRAIT 117 

VIII.  AN  ARRIVAL 134 

IX.  THE  SPREAD  OF  FIRE 147 

X.  A  LATE  VISITOR 159 

XI.  MORTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTER 173 

XII.  A  LETTER  FROM  PARIS 188 

XIII.  SCOOTSY'S  EPITHET 209 

XIV.  HIGH  WATER  AT  YARDLEY 233 

XV.  A  PACKAGE  OF  LETTERS 253 

XVI.  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  EBB 278 


247982 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.  BREAKERS  AHEAD 293 

XVIII.  THE  SWEDE'S  STORY 318 

XIX.  THE  BREAKING  OF  THE  DAWN 344 

XX.  THE  UNDERTOW 364 

XXI.  THE  MAN  IN  THE  SLOUCH  HAT 382 

XXII.  THE  CLAW  OF  THE  SEA-PUSS  .  410 


a 

r<r 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


LUCY  HUNG  BACK  UNTIL  THE  LAST    ....      Frontispiece 

PACING 
PAGE 

BART'S  LAST  WHISPER  TO  LUCY  WAS  IN  EXPLANATION 

OF  THE  LITTLE  WIFE'S  MANNER     ......    34 

THE  VIGIL  CONTINUED  FAR  INTO  THE  NIGHT  AND 

UNTIL  THE  GRAY  DAWN  STREAKED  THE  SKY  .  .  56 
"IT  IS  NOT  ME,"  SHE  MOANED,  "NOT  ME"  ...  108 
DOCTOR  JOHN  ROSE  FROM  HIS  CHAIR  AND  SLOWLY 

PACED  THE  ROOM  ............  124 

THE  DOCTOR  STOOD  OVER  THE  CAPTAIN  WITH  EYES 

BLAZING  AND  FISTS  TIGHTLY  CLENCHED  ....  172 
ARCHIE  SAID  HE  WAS  A  "BULLY  COMMODORE"  .  .  214 
"YES,  BUT  DON'T  COUNT  ME  IN,  PLEASE,"  EX 

CLAIMED  LUCY  .............  276 

"I  DON'T  WANT  YOU  TO  GO,  MAX,"  SHE  SAID  .    .    .  304 
*  ;  YOU  KNOW  MY  SON,  YOU  SAY  ?  "     .......  340 

THE  CAPTAIN  STARTED  UP  THE  DUNE  WITH  THE 

BEDRAGGLED  BODY  OF  THE  UNCONSCIOUS  MAN  .  406 
"COME  IN,  MEN!"  HE  SHOUTED  ........  420 


THE  TIDES  OF  BARNEGAT 


CHAPTEK   I 

THE  DOCTOR'S  GIG 

One  lovely  spring  morning — and  this  story  begins 
on  a  spring  morning  some  fifty  years  or  more  ago — • 
a  joy  of  a  morning  that  made  one  glad  to  be  alive, 
when  the  radiant  sunshine  had  turned  the  ribbon 
of  a  road  that  ran  from  Warehold  village  to  Barnegat 
Light  and  the  sea  to  satin,  the  wide  marshes  to 
velvet,  and  the  belts  of  stunted  pines  to  bands  of  pur 
ple — on  this  spring  morning,  then,  Martha  Sands, 
the  Cobdens'  nurse,  was  out  with  her  dog  Meg.  She 
had  taken  the  little  beast  to  the  inner  beach  for  a 
bath — a  custom  of  hers  when  the  weather  was  fine 
and  the  water  not  too  cold — and  was  returning  to 
Warehold  by  way  of  the  road,  when,  calling  the  dog 
to  her  side,  she  stopped  to  feast  her  eyes  on  the  pic 
ture  unrolled  at  her  feet. 

To  the  left  of  where  she  stood  curved  the  coast, 
glistening  like  a  scimitar,  and  the  strip  of  yellow 
beach  which  divided  the  narrow  bay  from  the  open 

1 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEGAT 

sea;  to  the  right,  thrust  out  into  the  sheen  of  silver, 
lay  the  spit  of  sand  narrowing  the  inlet,  its  edges 
scalloped  with  lace  foam,  its  extreme  point  domi 
nated  by  the  grim  tower  of  Barnegat  Light;  aloft, 
high  into  the  blue,  soared  the  gulls,  flashing  like 
jewels  as  they  lifted  their  breasts  to  the  sun,  while 
away  and  beyond  the  sails  of  the  fishing-boats,  gray 
or  silver  in  their  shifting  tacks,  crawled  over  the 
wrinkled  sea. 

The  glory  of  the  landscape  fixed  in  her  mind, 
Martha  gathered  her  shawl  about  her  shoulders, 
tightened  the  strings  of  her  white  cap,  smoothed  out 
her  apron,  and  with  the  remark  to  Meg  that  he'd 
"never  see  nothin'  so  beautiful  nor  so  restful/'  re 
sumed  her  walk. 

They  were  inseparable,  these  two,  and  had  been 
ever  since  the  day  she  had  picked  him  up  outside 
the  tavern,  half  starved  and  with  a  sore  patch  on  his 
back  where  some  kitchen-maid  had  scalded  him. 
Somehow  the  poor  outcast  brought  home  to  her  a  sad 
page  in  her  own  history,  when  she  herself  was  home 
less  and  miserable,  and  no  han^was  stretched  out 
to  her.  So  she  had  coddled  and  fondled  him,  gaining 
his  confidence  day  by  day  and  talking  to  him  by  the 
hour  of  whatever  was  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

Few  friendships  presented  stronger  contrasts :  She 
stout  and  motherly-looking — too  stout  for  any  waist 
line — with  kindly  blue  eyes,  smooth  gray  hair — 

2 


THE    DOCTOK'S    GIG 

gray,  not  white — her  round,  rosy  face,  framed  in  a 
cotton  cap,  aglow  with  the  freshness  of  the  morning 
— a  comforting,  coddling-up  kind  of  woman  of  fifty, 
;>vith  a  low,  crooning  voice,  gentle  fingers,  and  soft, 
restful  hollows  about  her  shoulders  and  bosom  for  the 
heads  of  tired  babies ;  Meg  thin,  rickety,  and  sneak- 
eyed,  with  a  broken  tail  that  hung  at  an  angle,  and 
but  one  ear  (a  black-and-tan  had  ruined  the  other) — 
a  sandy-colored,  rough-haired,  good-for-nothing  cur 
of  multifarious  lineage,  who  was  either  crouching 
at  her  feet  or  in  full  cry  for  some  hole  in  a  fence 
or  rift  in  a  wood-pile  where  he  could  flatten  out 
and  sulk  in  safety. 

Martha  continued  her  talk  to  Meg.  While  she 
had  been  studying  the  landscape  he  had  taken  the 
opportunity  to  wallow  in  whatever  came  first,  and 
his  wet  hair  was  bristling  with  sand  and  matted  with 
burrs. 

"  Come  here,  Meg — you  measly  rascal !  "  she  cried, 
stamping  her  foot.  "  Come  here,  I  tell  ye !  " 

The  dog  crouched  close  to  the  ground,  waited  until 
Martha  was  near  enough  to  lay  her  hand  upon  him, 
and  then,  with  a  backward  spring,  darted  under  a 
bush  in  full  blossom. 

"  Look  at  ye  now !  "  she  shouted  in  a  commanding 
tone.  "  ?  Tain't  no  use  o'  my  washin'  ye.  Ye're 
full  o'  thistles  and  jest  as  dirty  as  when  I  thro  wed 
ye  in  the  water.  Come  out  o?  that,  I  tell  ye !  Now, 

3 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARXEGAT 

Meg,  darlin'  " — this  came  in  a  coaxing  tone — "  come 
out  like  a  good  dog — sure  I'm  not  goin'  in  them 
brambles  to  hunt  ye !  " 

A  clatter  of  hoofs  rang  out  on  the  morning  air. 
A  two-wheeled  gig  drawn  by  a  well-groomed  sorrel 
horse  and  followed  by  a  brown-haired  Irish  setter 
was  approaching.  In  it  sat  a  man  of  thirty,  dressed 
in  a  long,  mouse-colored  surtout  with  a  wide  cape 
falling  to  the  shoulders.  On  his  head  was  a  soft  gray 
hat  and  about  his  neck  a  white  scarf  showing  above 
the  lapels  of  his  coat.  He  had  thin,  shapely  legs, 
a  flat  waist,  and  square  shoulders,  above  which  rose 
a  clean-shaven  face  of  singular  sweetness  and  refine 
ment. 

At  the  sound  of  the  wheels  the  tattered  cur  poked 
his  head  from  between  the  blossoms,  twisted  his  one 
ear  to  catch  the  sound,  and  with  a  side-spring  bounded 
up  the  road  toward  the  setter. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  if  it  ain't  Dr.  John  Cavendish 
and  Rex !  "  Martha  exclaimed,  raising  both  hands 
in  welcome  as  the  horse  stopped  beside  her.  "  Good- 
mornin'  to  ye,  Doctor  John.  I  thought  it  was  you, 
but  the  sun  blinded  me,  and  I  couldn't  see.  And 
ye  never  saw  a  better  nor  a  brighter  mornin'.  These 
spring  days  is  all  blossoms,  and  they  ought  to  be. 
Where  ye  goin',  anyway,  that  ye're  in  such  a  hurry  ? 
Ain't  nobody  sick  up  to  Cap'n  Holt's,  be  there  ? " 
she  added,  a  shade  of  anxiety  crossing  her  face. 

4 


THE    DOCTOR'S    GIG 

"  No,  Martha ;  it's  the  dressmaker,"  answered  the 
doctor,  tightening  the  reins  on  the  restless  sorrel  as 
he  spoke.  The  voice  was  low  and  kindly  and  had  a 
ring  of  sincerity  through  it. 

"  What  dressmaker  ?  " 

"  Why,  Miss  Gossaway !  "  His  hand  was  extended 
now — that  fine,  delicately  wrought,  sympathetic  hand 
that  had  soothed  so  many  aching  heads. 

"  YouVe  said  it,"  laughed  Martha,  leaning  over 
the  wheel  so  as  to  press  his  fingers  in  her  warm 
palm.  "  There  ain't  no  doubt  'bout  that  skinny 
fright  being  c  Miss/  and  there  ain't  no  doubt  'bout 
her  stayin'  so.  Ann  Gossaway  she  is,  and  Ann  Gossa 
way  she'll  die.  Is  she  took  bad  ?  "  she  continued,  a 
merry,  questioning  look  lighting  up  her  kindly  face, 
her  lips  pursed  knowingly. 

"  !N"o,  only  a  sore  throat,"  the  doctor  replied,  loos 
ening  his  coat. 

"  Throat !  "  she  rejoined,  with  a  wry  look  on  her 
face.  "  Too  bad  'twarn't  her  tongue.  If  ye  could 
snip  off  a  bit  o'  that  some  day  it  would  help  folks 
considerable  'round  here." 

The  doctor  laughed  in  answer,  dropped  the  lines 
over  the  dashboard  and  leaned  forward  in  his  seat, 
the  sun  lighting  up  his  clean-cut  face.  Busy  as  he 
was — and  there  were  few  busier  men  in  town,  as 
every  hitching-post  along  the  main  street  of  Ware- 
hold  village  from  Billy  Tatham's,  the  driver  of  the 

5 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

country  stage,  to  Captain  Holt's,  could  prove — he 
always  had  time  for  a  word  with  the  old  nurse. 

"  And  where  have  you  been,  Mistress  Martha  ?  " 
he  asked,  with  a  smile,  dropping  his  whip  into  the 
socket,  a  sure  sign  that  he  had  a  few  more  minutes 
to  give  her. 

"  Oh,  down  to  the  beach  to  git  some  o'  the  dirt  off 
Meg.  Look  at  him — did  ye  ever  see  such  a  rap 
scallion  !  Every  time  I  throw  him  in  he's  into  the 
sand  ag'in  wallowin'  before  I  kin  git  to  him." 

The  doctor  bent  his  head,  and  for  an  instant 
watched  the  two  dogs:  Meg  circling  about  Rex,  all 
four  legs  taut,  his  head  jerking  from  side  to  side  in 
his  eagerness  to  be  agreeable  to  his  roadside  acquain 
tance;  the  agate-eyed  setter  returning  Meg's  atten 
tions  with  the  stony  gaze  of  a  club  swell  ignoring  a 
shabby  relative.  The  doctor  smiled  thoughtfully. 
There  was  nothing  he  loved  to  study  so  much  as  dogs 
— they  had  a  peculiar  humor  of  their  own,  he  often 
said,  more  enjoyable  sometimes  than  that  of  men — 
then  he  turned  to  Martha  again. 

"  And  why  are  you  away  from  home  this  morning 
of  all  others  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  thought  Miss  Lucy 
was  expected  from  school  to-day  ?  " 

"  And  so  she  is,  God  bless  her !  And  that's  why 
I'm  here.  I  was  that  restless  I  couldn't  keep  still, 
and  so  I  says  to  Miss  Jane,  i  I'm  goin'  to  the  beach 
with  Meg  and  watch  the  ships  go  by ;  that's  the  only 

6 


THE    DOCTOK'S    GIG 

thing  that'll  quiet  my  nerves.  They're  never  in  a 
hurry  with  everybody  punchin'  and  haulin'  them.' 
Not  that  there's  anybody  doin'  that  to  me,  'cept  like 
it  is  to-day  when  I'm  waitin'  for  my  blessed  baby  to 
come  back  to  me.  Two  years,  doctor — two  whole 
years  since  I  had  my  arms  round  her.  Wouldn't  ye 
think  I'd  be  nigh  crazy  ?  " 

"  She's  too  big  for  your  arms  now,  Martha," 
laughed  the  doctor,  gathering  up  his  reins.  "  She's 
a  woman — seventeen,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Seventeen  and  three  months,  come  the  fourteenth 
of  next  July.  But  she's  not  a  woman  to  me,  and  she 
never  will  be.  She's  my  wee  bairn  that  I  took  from 
her  mother's  dyin'  arms  and  nursed  at  my  own  breast, 
and  she'll  be  that  wree  bairn  to  me  as  long  as  I  live. 
Ye'll  be  up  to  see  her,  won't  ye,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to-night.  How's  Miss  Jane  ?  "  As  he  made 
the  inquiry  his  eyes  kindled  and  a  slight  color  suf 
fused  his  cheeks. 

"  She'll  be  better  for  seein'  ye,"  the  nurse  an 
swered  with  a  knowing  look.  Then  in  a  louder  and 
more  positive  tone,  "  Oh,  ye  needn't  stare  so  with 
them  big  brown  eyes  o'  yourn.  Ye  can't  fool  old 
Martha,  none  o?  you  young  people  kin.  Ye  think 
I  go  round  with  my  eyelids  sewed  up.  Miss  Jane 
knows  what  she  wants — she's  proud,  and  so  are  you ; 
I  never  knew  a  Cobden  nor  a  Cavendish  that  warn't. 
I  haven't  a  word  to  say — it'll  be  a  good  match  when 

T 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

it  comes  off.  Where's  that  Meg?  Good-by,  doctor. 
I  won't  keep  ye  a  minute  longer  from  Miss  Gossa- 
way.  I'm  sorry  it  ain't  her  tongue,  but  if  it's  only 
her  throat  she  may  get  over  it.  Go  'long,  Meg !  " 

Dr.  Cavendish  laughed  one  of  his  quiet  laughs — 
a  laugh  that  wrinkled  the  lines  about  his  eyes,  with 
only  a  low  gurgle  in  his  throat  for  accompaniment, 
picked  up  his  whip,  lifted  his  hat  in  mock  courtesy 
to  the  old  nurse,  and  calling  to  Rex,  who,  bored  by 
Meg's  attentions,  had  at  last  retreated  under  the  gig, 
chirruped  to  his  horse,  and  drove  on. 

Martha  watched  the  doctor  and  Rex  until  they 
wrere  out  of  sight,  walked  on  to  the  top  of  the  low 
hill,  and  finding  a  seat  by  the  roadside — her  breath 
came  short  these  warm  spring  days — sat  down  to 
rest,  the  dog  stretched  out  in  her  lap.  The  little  out 
cast  had  come  to  her  the  day  Lucy  left  Warehold 
for  school,  and  the  old  nurse  had  always  regarded 
him  with  a  certain  superstitious  feeling,  persuading 
herself  that  nothing  would  happen  to  her  bairn  as 
long  as  this  miserable  dog  was  well  cared  for. 

"  Ye  heard  what  Doctor  John  said  about  her  bein' 
a  woman,  Meg  ? "  she  crooned,  when  she  had  caught 
her  breath.  "  And  she  with  her  petticoats  up  to  her 
knees !  That's  all  he  knows  about  her.  Ye'd  know 
better  than  that,  Meg,  wouldn't  ve — if  ye'd  seen  her 
grow  up  like  he's  done  ?  But  grown  up  or  not,  Meg  " 
— here  she  lifted  the  dog's  nose  to  get  a  clearer  view 

8 


THE    DOCTOK'S    GIG 

of  his  sleepy  eyes — "  she's  my  blessed  baby  and  she's 
comin'  home  this  very  day,  Meg,  darlin' ;  d'ye  hear 
that,  ye  little  ruffian  ?  And  she's  not  goin'  away 
ag'in,  never,  never.  There'll  be  nobody  drivin' 
round  in  a  gig  lookin'  after  her — nor  nobody  else 
as  long  as  I  kin  help  it.  Now  git  up  and  come 
along ;  I'm  that  restless  I  can't  sit  still,"  and  sliding 
the  dog  from  her  lap,  she  again  resumed  her  walk 
toward  Warehold. 

Soon  the  village  loomed  in  sight,  and  later  on  the 
open  gateway  of  "  Yardley,"  the  old  Cobden  Manor, 
with  its  two  high  brick  posts  topped  with  white  balls 
and  shaded  by  two  tall  hemlocks,  through  which 
could  be  seen  a  level  path  leading  to  an  old  colonial 
house  with  portico,  white  pillars  supporting  a  bal 
cony,  and  a  sloping  roof  with  huge  chimneys  and 
dormer  windows. 

Martha  quickened  her  steps,  and  halting  at  the 
gate-posts,  paused  for  a  moment  with  her  eyes  up  the 
road.  It  was  yet  an  hour  of  the  time  of  her  bairn's 
arrival  by  the  country  stage,  but  her  impatience  was 
such  that  she  could  not  enter  the  path  without  this 
backward  glance.  Meg,  who  had  followed  behind 
his  mistress  at  a  snail's  pace,  also  came  to  a  halt  and, 
as  was  his  custom,  picked  out  a  soft  spot  in  the  road 
and  sat  down  on  his  haunches. 

Suddenly  the  dog  sprang  up  with  a  quick  yelp 
and  darted  inside  the  gate.  The  next  instant  a  young 

9 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT 

girl  in  white,  with  a  wide  hat  shading  her  joyous 
face,  jumped  from  behind  one  of  the  big  hemlocks 
and  with  a  cry  pinioned  Martha's  arms  to  her  side. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  old  thing,  you !  where  have  you 
been  ?  Didn't  you  know  I  was  coming  by  the  early 
stage  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  half -querulous  tone. 

The  old  nurse  disengaged  one  of  her  arms  from 
the  tight  clasp  of  the  girl,  reached  up  her  hand  until 
she  found  the  soft  cheek,  patted  it  gently  for  an 
instant  as  a  blind  person  might  have  done,  and  then 
reassured,  hid  her  face  on  Lucy's  shoulder  and  burst 
into  tears.  The  joy  of  the  surprise  had  almost 
stopped  her  breath. 

"  No,  baby,  no,"  she  murmured.  "  No,  darlin', 
I  didn't.  I  was  on  the  beach  with  Meg.  No,  no — 
Oh,  let  me  cry,  darlin'.  To  think  I've  got  you  at 
last.  I  wouldn't  have  gone  away,  darlin',  but  they 
told  me  you  wouldn't  be  here  till  dinner-time.  Oh, 
darlin',  is  it  you?  And  it's  all  true,  isn't  it?  and 
ye've  come  back  to  me  for  good  ?  Hug  me  close.  Oh, 
my  baby  bairn,  my  little  one !  Oh,  you  precious !  " 
and  she  nestled  the  girl's  head  on  her  bosom,  smooth 
ing  her  cheek  as  she  crooned  on,  the  tears  running 
down  her  cheeks. 

Before  the  girl  could  reply  there  came  a  voice 
calling  from  the  house :  "  Isn't  she  fine,  Martha  ?  " 
A  woman  above  the  middle  height,  young  and  of 
slender  figure,  dressed  in  a  simple  gray  gown  and 

10 


THE    DOCTOK'S    GIG 

without  her  hat,  was  stepping  from  the  front  porch 
to  meet  them. 

"  Too  fine,  Miss  Jane,  for  her  old  Martha/7  the 
nurse  called  back.  "  I've  got  to  love  her  all  over 
again.  Oh,  but  I'm  that  happy  I  could  burst  meself 
with  joy!  Give  me  hold  of  your  hand,  darlin' — 
I'm  afraid  I'll  lose  ye  ag'in  if  ye  get  out  of  reach 
of  me." 

The  two  strolled  slowly  up  the  path  to  meet  Jane, 
Martha  patting  the  girl's  arm  and  laying  her  cheek 
against  it  as  she  walked.  Meg  had  ceased  barking 
and  was  now  sniffing  at  Lucy's  skirts,  his  bent  tail 
wagging  slowly,  his  sneaky  eyes  looking  up  into 
Lucy's  face. 

"  Will  he  bite,  Martha  ?  "  she  asked,  shrinking  to 
one  side.  She  had  an  aversion  to  anything  physically 
imperfect,  no  matter  how  lovable  it  might  be  to 
others.  This  tattered  example  struck  her  as  par 
ticularly  objectionable. 

"  ^To,  darlin' — nothin'  'cept  his  food,"  and  Martha 
laughed. 

"  What  a  horrid  little  beast !  "  Lucy  said  half 
aloud  to  herself,  clinging  all  the  closer  to  the  nurse. 
"  This  isn't  the  dog  sister  Jane  wrote  me  about,  is 
it?  She  said  you  loved  him  dearly — you  don't,  do 
you?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  same  dog.  You  don't  like  him, 
do  you,  darlin'  ?  " 

11 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  No,  I  think  he's  awful/7  retorted  Lucy  in  a  posi 
tive  tone. 

"  It's  all  I  had  to  pet  since  you  went  away," 
Martha  answered  apologetically. 

"  Well,  now  I'm  home,  give  him  away,  please. 
Go  away,  you  dreadful  dog !  "  she  cried,  stamping 
her  foot  as  Meg,  now  reassured,  tried  to  jump  upon 
her. 

The  dog  fell  back,  and  crouching  close  to  Martha's 
side  raised  his  eyes  appealingly,  his  ear  and  tail 
dragging. 

Jane  now  joined  them.  She  had  stopped  to  pick 
some  blossoms  for  the  house. 

"  Why,  Lucy,  what's  poor  Meg  done  ?  "  she  asked, 
as  she  stooped  over  and  stroked  the  crestfallen  beast's 
head.  "  Poor  old  doggie — we  all  love  you,  don't 
we?" 

"  Well,  just  please  love  him  all  to  yourselves, 
then,"  retorted  Lucy  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "  I 
wouldn't  touch  him  with  a  pair  of  tongs.  I  never 
saw  anything  so  ugly.  Get  away,  you  little  brute !  " 

"  Oh,  Lucy,  dear,  don't  talk  so,"  replied  the  older 
sister  in  a  pitying  tone.  "  He  was  half  starved  when 
Martha  found  him  and  brought  him  home — and  look 
at  his  poor  back 

"  No,  thank  you ;  I  don't  want  to  look  at  his  poor 
back,  nor  his  poor  tail,  nor  anything  else  poor  about 
him.  And  you  will  send  him  away,  won't  you,  like 

12 


THE    DOCTOR'S    GIG 

a  dear  good  old  Martha  ? "  she  added,  patting 
Martha's  shoulder  in  a  coaxing  way.  Then  encir 
cling  Jane's  waist  with  her  arm,  the  two  sisters  saun 
tered  slowly  back  to  the  house. 

Martha  followed  behind  with  Meg. 

Somehow,  and  for  the  first  time  where  Lucy  was 
concerned,  she  felt  a  tightening  of  her  heart-strings, 
all  the  more  painful  because  it  had  followed  so 
closely  upon  the  joy  of  their  meeting.  What  had 
come  over  her  bairn,  she  said  to  herself  with  a  sigh, 
that  she  should  talk  so  to  Meg — to  anything  that 
her  old  nurse  loved,  for  that  matter?  Jane  inter 
rupted  her  reveries. 

"  Did  you  give  Meg  a  bath,  Martha  ?  "  she  asked 
over  her  shoulder.  She  had  seen  the  look  of  dis 
appointment  in  the  old  nurse's  face  and,  knowing 
the  cause,  tried  to  lighten  the  effect. 

"  Yes — half  water  and  half  sand.  Doctor  John 
came  along  with  Rex  shinin'  like  a  new  muff,  and 
I  was  ashamed  to  let  him  see  Meg.  He's  comin'  up 
to  see  you  to-night,  Lucy,  darlin',"  and  she  bent  for 
ward  and  tapped  the  girl's  shoulder  to  accentuate 
the  importance  of  the  information. 

Lucy  cut  her  eye  in  a  roguish  way  and  twisted 
her  pretty  head  around  until  she  could  look  into 
Jane's  eyes. 

"  Who  do  you  think  he's  coming  to  see,  sister  ?  " 

"  Why,  you,  you  little  goose.  They're  all  coming 
13 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

— Uncle  Ephraim  has  sent  over  every  day  to  find  out 
when  you  would  be  home,  and  Bart  Holt  was  here 
early  this  morning,  and  will  be  back  to-night." 

"What  does  Bart  Holt  look  like ?  "— she  had 
stopped  in  her  walk  to  pluck  a  spray  of  lilac  blos 
soms.  "  I  haven't  seen  him  for  years ;  I  hear  he's 
another  one  of  your  beaux,"  she  added,  tucking  the 
flowers  into  Jane's  belt.  "  There,  sister,  that's  just 
your  color;  that's  what  that  gray  dress  needs.  Tell 
me,  what's  Bart  like  ?  " 

"  A  little  like  Captain  Nat,  his  father,"  answered 
Jane,  ignoring  Lucy's  last  inference,  "  not  so  stout 
and » 

"What's  he  doing?" 

"  Nothin',  darlin',  that's  any  good,"  broke  in 
Martha  from  behind  the  two.  "  He's  sailin'  a  boat 
when  he  ain't  playin'  cards  or  scarin'  everybody 
down  to  the  beach  with  his  gun,  or  shyin'  things  at 
Meg." 

"  Don't  you  mind  anything  Martha  says,  Lucy," 
interrupted  Jane  in  a  defensive  tone.  "  He's  got 
a  great  many  very  good  qualities ;  he  has  no  mother 
and  the  captain  has  never  looked  after  him.  It's  a 
great  wonder  that  he  is  not  worse  than  he  is." 

She  knew  Martha  had  spoken  the  truth,  but  she 
still  hoped  that  her  influence  might  help  him,  and 
then  again,  she  never  liked  to  hear  even  her  acquain 
tances  criticised. 

14 


THE    DOCTOK'S    GIG 

"  Playing  cards !  That  all  ?  "  exclaimed  Lucy, 
arching  her  eyebrows;  her  sister's  excuses  for  the 
delinquent  evidently  made  no  impression  on  her. 
"  I  don't  think  playing  cards  is  very  bad ;  and  I  don't 
blame  him  for  throwing  anything  he  could  lay  his 
hands  on  at  this  little  wretch  of  Martha's.  We  all 
played  cards  up  in  our  rooms  at  school.  Miss  Sarah 
never  knew  anything  about  it — she  thought  we  were 
in  bed,  and  it  was  just  lovely  to  fool  her.  And  what 
does  the  immaculate  Dr.  John  Cavendish  look  like  ? 
Has  he  changed  any  ? "  she  added  with  a  laugh. 

"  No,"  answered  Jane  simply. 

"  Does  he  come  often  ?  "  She  had  turned  her 
head  now  and  was  looking  from  under  her  lids  at 
Martha.  "  Just  as  he  used  to  and  sit  around,  or  has 
he — "  Here  she  lifted  her  eyebrows  in  inquiry,  and 
a  laugh  bubbled  out  from  between  her  lips. 

"  Yes,  that's  just  what  he  does  do,"  cried  Martha 
in  a  triumphant  tone ;  "  every  minute  he  kin  git. 
And  he  can't  come  too  often  to  suit  me.  I  jest  love 
him,  and  I'm  not  the  only  one,  neither,  darlin'," 
she  added  with  a  nod  of  her  head  toward  Jane. 

"  And  Barton  Holt  as  well  \ "  persisted  Lucy. 
"  Why,  sister,  I  didn't  suppose  there  would  be  a  man 
for  me  to  look  at  when  I  came  home,  and  you've  got 
two  already !  Which  one  are  you  going  to  take  ?  " 
Here  her  rosy  face  was  drawn  into  solemn  lines. 

Jane  colored.  "  You've  got  to  be  a  great  tease, 
15 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

Lucy/7  she  answered  as  she  leaned  over  and  kissed 
her  on  the  cheek.  "  I'm  not  in  the  back  of  the  doc 
tor's  head,  nor  he  in  mine — he's  too  busy  nursing  the 
sick — and  Bart's  a  boy !  " 

"  Why,  he's  twenty-five  years  old,  isn't  he  ? " 
exclaimed  Lucy  in  some  surprise. 

'*  Twenty-five  years  young,  dearie — there's  a  dif 
ference,  you  know.  That's  why  I  do  what  I  can  to 
help  him.  If  he'd  had  the  right  influences  in  his  life 
and  could  be  thrown  a  little  more  with  nice  women 
it  would  help  make  him  a  better  man.  Be  very  good 
to  him,  please,  even  if  you  do  find  him  a  little 
rough." 

They  had  mounted  the  steps  of  the  porch  and 
were  now  entering  the  wide  colonial  hall — a  bare 
white  hall,  with  a  staircase  protected  by  spindling 
mahogany  banisters  and  a  handrail.  Jane  passed 
into  the  library  and  seated  herself  at  her  desk.  Lucy 
ran  on  upstairs,  followed  by  Martha  to  help  unpack 
her  boxes  and  trunks. 

When  they  reached  the  room  in  which  Martha  had 
nursed  her  for  so  many  years — the  little  crib  still 
occupied  one  corner — the  old  woman  took  the  wide 
hat  from  the  girl's  head  and  looked  long  and  search- 
ingly  into  her  eyes. 

"  Let  me  look  at  ye,  my  baby,"  she  said,  as  she 
pushed  Lucy's  hair  back  from  her  forehead ;  "  same 
blue  eyes,  darling  same  pretty  mouth  I  kissed  so 

16 


THE    DOCTOR'S    GIG 

often,  same  little  dimples  ye  had  when  ye  lay  in  my 
arms,  but  ye've  changed — how  I  can't  tell.  Some 
how,  the  face  is  different." 

Her  hands  now  swept  over  the  full  rounded 
shoulders  and  plump  arms  of  the  beautiful  girl,  and 
over  the  full  hips. 

"  The  doctor's  right,  child,"  she  said  with  a  sigh, 
stepping  back  a  pace  and  looking  her  over  critically ; 
"  my  baby's  gone — you've  filled  out  to  be  a  woman." 


17 


CHAPTEE   II 

SPRING   BLOSSOMS 

For  days  the  neighbors  in  and  about  the  village  of 
Warehold  had  been  looking  forward  to  Lucy's  home 
coming  as  one  of  the  important  epochs  in  the  his 
tory  of  the  Manor  House,  quite  as  they  would  have 
done  had  Lucy  been  a  boy  and  the  expected  function 
one  given  in  honor  of  the  youthful  heir's  majority. 
Most  of  them  had  known  the  father  and  mother  of 
these  girls,  and  all  of  them  loved  Jane,  the  gentle 
mistress  of  the  home — a  type  of  woman  eminently 
qualified  to  maintain  its  prestige. 

It  had  been  a  great  house  in  its  day.  Built  in 
early  Revolutionary  times  by  Archibald  Cobden,  who 
had  thrown  up  his  office  under  the  Crown  and  openly 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  colonists,  it  had  often  been 
the  scene  of  many  of  the  festivities  and  social  events 
following  the  conclusion  of  peace  and  for  many  years 
thereafter :  the  rooms  were  still  pointed  out  in  which 
Washington  and  Lafayette  had  slept,  as  well  as  the 
small  alcove  where  the  dashing  Bart  de  Klyn  passed 
the  night  whenever  he  drove  over  in  his  coach  with 
outriders  from  Bow  Hill  to  Barnegat  and  the  sea. 

18 


SPKING   BLOSSOMS 

With  the  death  of  Colonel  Creighton  Cobden,  who 
held  a  commission  in  the  War  of  1812,  all  this  mag 
nificence  of  living  had  changed,  and  when  Morton 
Cobden,  the  father  of  Jane  and  Lucy,  inherited  the 
estate,  but  little  was  left  except  the  Manor  House, 
greatly  out  of  repair,  and  some  invested  property 
which  brought  in  but  a  modest  income.  On  his 
death-bed  Morton  Cobden's  last  words  were  a  prayer 
to  Jane,  then  eighteen,  that  she  would  watch  over 
and  protect  her  younger  sister,  a  fair-haired  child 
of  eight,  taking  his  own  and  her  dead  mother's  place, 
a  trust  which  had  so  dominated  Jane's  life  that  it 
had  become  the  greater  part  of  her  religion. 

Since  then  she  had  been  the  one  strong  hand  in 
the  home,  looking  after  its  affairs,  managing  their 
income,  and  watching  over  every  step  of  her  sister's. 
girlhood  and  womanhood.  Two  years  before  she  had 
placed  Lucy  in  one  of  the  fashionable  boarding- 
schools  of  Philadelphia,  there  to  study  "  music  and 
French,"  and  to  perfect  herself  in  that  "  grace  of 
manner  and  charm  of  conversation,"  which  the  two 
maiden  ladies  who  presided  over  its  fortunes  claimed 
in  their  modest  advertisements  they  were  so  compe 
tent  to  teach.  Part  of  the  curriculum  was  an  en 
forced  absence  from  home  of  two  years,  during  which 
time  none  of  her  own  people  were  to  visit  her  except 
in  case  of  emergency. 

To-night,  the  once  famous  house  shone  with  some- 
19 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

thing  of  its  old-time  color.  The  candles  were  lighted 
in  the  big  bronze  candelabra — the  ones  which  came 
from  Paris ;  the  best  glass  and  china  and  all  the  old 
plate  were  brought  out  and  placed  on  the  sideboard 
and  serving-tables ;  a  wood  fire  was  started  (the  nights 
were  yet  cold),  its  cheery  blaze  lighting  up  the  brass 
fender  and  andirons  before  which  many  of  Colonel 
Cobden's  cronies  had  toasted  their  shins  as  they 
sipped  their  toddies  in  the  old  days;  easy-chairs 
and  hair-cloth  sofas  were  drawn  from  the  walls ;  the 
big  lamps  lighted,  and  many  minor  details  perfected 
for  the  comfort  of  the  expected  guests. 

Jane  entered  the  drawing-room  in  advance  of  Lucy 
and  was  busying  herself  putting  the  final  touches 
to  the  apartment, — arranging  the  sprays  of  blossoms 
over  the  clock  and  under  the  portrait  of  Morton  Cob- 
den,  which  looked  calmly  down  on  the  room  from  its 
place  on  the  walls,  when  the  door  opened  softly  and 
Martha — the  old  nurse  had  for  years  been  treated 
as  a  member  of  the  family — stepped  in,  bowing  and 
curtsying  as  would  an  old  woman  in  a  play,  the 
skirt  of  her  new  black  silk  gown  that  Ann  Gossaway 
had  made  for  her  held  out  between  her  plump  fingers, 
her  mob-cap  with  its  long  lace  strings  bobbing  with 
every  gesture.  With  her  rosy  cheeks,  silver-rimmed 
spectacles,  self-satisfied  smile,  and  big  puffy  sleeves, 
she  looked  as  if  sho  might  have  stepped  out  of  one 
of  the  old  frames  lining  the  walls. 

20 


SPKING   BLOSSOMS 

"  What  do  ye  think  of  me,  Miss  Jane  ?  I'm  proud 
as  a  peacock — that  I  am !  "  she  cried,  twisting  her 
self  about.  "  Do  ye  know,  I  never  thought  that 
skinny  dressmaker  could  do  half  as  well.  Is  it  long 
enough  ?  "  and  she  craned  her  head  in  the  attempt 
to  see  the  edge  of  the  skirt. 

"  Fits  you  beautifully,  Martha.  You  look  fine," 
answered  Jane  in  all  sincerity,  as  she  made  a  sur 
vey  of  the  costume.  "  How  does  Lucy  like  it  ?  " 

"  The  darlin'  don't  like  it  at  all ;  she  says  I  look 
like  a  pall-bearer,  and  ye  ought  to  hear  her  laughin' 
at  the  cap.  Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  it? 
The  pastor's  wife's  got  one,  anyhow,  and  she's  a  year 
younger'n  me." 

"  Don't  mind  her,  Martha — she  laughs  at  every 
thing;  and  how  good  it  is  to  hear  her!  She  never 
saw  you  look  so  well,"  replied  Jane,  as  she  moved  a 
jar  from  a  table  and  placed  it  on  the  mantel  to  hold 
the  blossoms  she  had  picked  in  the  garden.  "  What's 
she  doing  upstairs  so  long  ?  " 

"  Prinkin' — and  lookin'  that  beautiful  ye  wouldn't 
know  her.  But  the  width  and  the  thickness  of 
her  " — here  the  wrinkled  fingers  measured  the  in 
crease  with  a  half  circle  in  the  air — "  and  the  way 
she's  plumped  out — not  in  one  place,  but  all  over — 
well,  I  tell  ye,  ye'd  be  astonished!  She  knows  it, 
too,  bless  her  heart!  I  don't  blame  her.  Let  her 
git  all  the  comfort  she  kin  when  she's  young — that's 

21 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

the  time  for  laughin' — the  cryin'  always  comes 
later." 

No  part  of  Martha's  rhapsody  over  Lucy  described 
Jane.  Not  in  her  best  moments  could  she  have  been 
called  beautiful — not  even  to-night  when  Lucy's 
home-coming  had  given  a  glow  to  her  cheeks  and  a 
lustre  to  her  eyes  that  nothing  else  had  done  for 
months.  Her  slender  figure,  almost  angular  in  its 
contour  with  its  closely  drawn  lines  about  the  hips 
and  back;  her  spare  throat  and  neck,  straight  arms, 
thin  wrists  and  hands — transparent  hands,  though 
exquisitely  wrought,  as  were  those  of  all  her  race 
— all  so  expressive  of  high  breeding  and  refine 
ment,  carried  with  them  none  of  the  illusions  of 
beauty.  The  mould  of  the  head,  moreover,  even 
when  softened  by  her  smooth  chestnut  hair,  worn 
close  to  her  ears  and  caught  up  in  a  coil  behind,  was 
too  severe  for  accepted  standards,  while  her  features 
wonderfully  sympathetic  as  they  were,  lacked  the 
finer  modeling  demanded  in  perfect  types  of  female 
loveliness,  the  eyebrows  being  almost  straight,  the 
cheeks  sunken,  with  little  shadows  under  the  cheek 
bones,  and  the  lips  narrow  and  often  drawn. 

And  yet  with  all  these  discrepancies  and,  to  some 
minds,  blemishes  there  was  a  light  in  her  deep  gray 
eyes,  a  melody  in  her  voice,  a  charm  in  her  manner, 
a  sureness  of  her  being  exactly  the  sort  of  woman 
one  hoped  she  would  be,  a  quick  responsiveness  to 

22 


SPKING   BLOSSOMS 

any  confidence,  all  so  captivating  and  so  satisfying 
that  those  who  knew  her  forgot  her  slight  physical 
shortcomings  and  carried  away  only  the  remembrance 
of  one  so  much  out  of  the  common  and  of  so  dis 
tinguished  a  personality  that  she  became  ever  after 
the  standard  by  which  they  judged  all  good  women. 

There  were  times,  too — especially  whenever  Lucy 
entered  the  room  or  her  name  was  mentioned — that 
there  shone  through  Jane's  eyes  a  certain  instantane 
ous  kindling  of  the  spirit  which  would  irradiate  her 
whole  being  as  a  candle  does  a  lantern — a  light 
betokening  not  only  uncontrollable  tenderness  but 
unspeakable  pride,  dimmed  now  and  then  when  some 
word  or  act  of  her  charge  brought  her  face  to  face 
with  the  weight  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon 
her — a  responsibility  far  outweighing  that  which 
most  mothers  would  have  felt.  This  so  dominated 
Jane's  every  motion  that  it  often  robbed  her  of  the 
full  enjoyment  of  the  companionship  of  a  sister  so 
young  and  so  beautiful. 

If  Jane,  to  quote  Doctor  John,  looked  like  a  lily 
swaying  on  a  slender  stem,  Lucy,  when  she  bounded 
into  the  room  to-night,  was  a  full-blown  rose  tossed 
by  a  summer  breeze.  She  came  in  with  throat  and 
neck  bare ;  a  woman  all  curves  and  dimples,  her  skin 
as  pink  as  a  shell ;  plump  as  a  baby,  and  as  fair,  and 
yet  with  the  form  of  a  wood-nymph;  dressed  in  a 
clinging,  soft  gown;  the  sleeves  caught  up  at  the 

23 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

shoulders  revealing  her  beautiful  arms,  a  spray  of 
blossoms  on  her  bosom,  her  blue  eyes  dancing  with 
health,  looking  twenty  rather  than  seventeen;  glad 
of  her  freedom,  glad  of  her  home  and  Jane  and 
Martha,  and  of  the  lights  and  blossoms  and  the  glint 
on  silver  and  glass,  and  of  all  that  made  life  breath 
able  and  livable. 

"  Oh,  but  isn't  it  just  too  lovely  to  be  at  home!  " 
she  cried  as  she  skipped  about.  "  No  lights  out  at 
nine,  no  prayers,  no  getting  up  at  six  o'clock  and 
turning  your  mattress  and  washing  in  a  sloppy  little 
washroom.  Oh,  I'm  so  happy!  I  can't  realize  it's 
all  true."  As  she  spoke  she  raised  herself  on  her  toes 
so  that  she  could  see  her  face  in  the  mirror  over  the 
mantel.  "  Why,  do  you  know,  sister/7  she  rattled 
on,  her  eyes  studying  her  own  face,  "  that  Miss 
Sarah  used  to  make  us  learn  a  page  of  dictionary  if 
we  talked  after  the  silence  bell !  " 

"  You  must  know  the  whole  book  by  heart,  then, 
dearie,"  replied  Jane  with  a  smile,  as  she  bent  over 
a  table  and  pushed  back  some  books  to  make  room 
for  a  bowl  of  arbutus  she  held  in  her  hand. 

"  Ah,  but  she  didn't  catch  us  very  often.  We 
used  to  stuff  up  the  cracks  in  the  doors  so  she 
couldn't  hear  us  talk  and  smother  our  heads  in  the 
pillows.  Jonesy,  the  English  teacher,  was  the 
worst."  She  was  still  looking  in  the  glass,  her  fingers 
busy  with  the  spray  of  blossoms  on  her  bosom.  "  She 

24 


SPKETO   BLOSSOMS 

always  wore  felt  slippers  and  crept  around  like  a 
cat.  She'd  tell  on  anybody.  We  had  a  play  one 
night  in  my  room  after  lights  were  out,  and  Maria 
Collins  was  Claude  Melnotte  and  I  was  Pauline. 
Maria  had  a  mustache  blackened  on  her  lips  with  a 
piece  of  burnt  cork  and  I  was  all  fixed  up  in  a 
dressing-gown  and  sash.  We  never  heard  Jonesy  till 
she  put  her  hand  on  the  knob ;  then  we  blew  out  the 
candle  and  popped  into  bed.  She  smelled  the  candle- 
wick  and  leaned  over  and  kissed  Maria  good-night, 
and  the  black  all  came  off  on  her  lips,  and  next  day 
we  got  three  pages  apiece — the  mean  old  thing! 
How  do  I  look,  Martha  ?  Is  my  hair  all  right  ?  " 
Here  she  turned  her  head  for  the  old  woman's  in 
spection. 

"  Beautiful,  darlin'.  There  won't  one  o'  them 
know  ye;  they'll  think  ye're  a  real  livin'  princess 
stepped  out  of  a  picture-book."  Martha  had  not 
taken  her  eyes  from  Lucy  since  she  entered  the 
room. 

"  See  my  little  beau-catchers,"  she  laughed,  twist 
ing  her  head  so  that  Martha  could  see  the  tiny 
Spanish  curls  she  had  flattened  against  her  temples. 
"  They  are  for  Bart  Holt,  and  I'm  going  to  cut  sis 
ter  out.  Do  you  think  he'll  remember  me  ?  "  she 
prattled  on,  arching  her  neck. 

"  It  won't  make  any  difference  if  he  don't," 
Martha  retorted  in  a  positive  tone.  "  But  Cap'n 

25 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Nat  will,  and  so  will  the  doctor  and  Uncle  Epkraim 
and — who's  that  comin'  this  early  ?  "  and  the  old 
nurse  paused  and  listened  to  a  heavy  step  on  the 
porch.  "  It  must  be  the  cap'n  himself ;  there  ain't 
nobody  but  hint's  got  a  tread  like  that;  ye'd  think 
he  was  trampin'  the  deck  o'  one  of  his  ships." 

The  door  of  the  drawing-room  opened  and  a  bluff, 
hearty,  round-faced  man  of  fifty,  his  iron-gray  hair 
standing  straight  up  on  his  head  like  a  shoe-brush, 
dressed  in  a  short  pea-jacket  surmounted  by  a  low 
sailor  collar  and  loose  necktie,  stepped  cheerily  into 
the  room. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Jane !  "  Somehow  ail  the  neighbors, 
even  the  most  intimate,  remembered  to  prefix 
"  Miss  "  when  speaking  to  Jane.  "  So  you've  got 
this  fly-away  back  again  ?  Where  are  ye  ?  By  jingo ! 
let  me  look  at  you.  Why!  why!  why!  Did  you 
ever !  What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself,  lassie, 
that  you  should  shed  your  shell  like  a  bug  and  come 
out  with  wings  like  a  butterfly?  Why  you're  the 
prettiest  thing  I've  seen  since  I  got  home  from  my 
last  voyage." 

He  had  Lucy  by  both  hands  now,  and  was  turn 
ing  her  about  as  if  she  had  been  one  of  Ann  Gossa- 
way's  models. 

"  Have  I  changed,  Captain  Holt  ?  " 

"  No — not  a  mite.  You've  got  a  new  suit  of  flesh 
and  blood  on  your  bones,  that's  all.  And  it's  the  best 

26 


SPRING   BLOSSOMS 

in  the  locker.  Well!  Well!  WELL!"  He  was 
still  twisting  her  around.  "  She  does  ye  proud, 
Martha/'  he  called  to  the  old  nurse,  who  was  just 
leaving  the  room  to  take  charge  of  the  pantry,  now 
that  the  guests  had  begun  to  arrive.  "  And  so  ye're 
home  for  good  and  all,  lassie  ?  " 

«  Yes— isn't  it  lovely  ?  " 

"  Lovely  ?  That's  no  name  for  it.  You'll  be  settin' 
the  young  fellers  crazy  'bout  here  before  they're  a 
week  older.  Here  come  two  of  'em  now." 

Lucy  turned  her  head  quickly,  just  as  the  doctor 
and  Barton  Holt  reached  the  door  of  the  drawing- 
room.  The  elder  of  the  two,  Doctor  John,  greeted 
Jane  as  if  she  had  been  a  duchess,  bowing  low  as  he 
approached  her,  his  eyes  drinking  in  her  every  move 
ment;  then,  after  a  few  words,  remembering  the 
occasion  as  being  one  in  honor  of  Lucy,  he  walked 
slowly  toward  the  young  girl. 

"  Why,  Lucy,  it's  so  delightful  to  get  you  back !  " 
he  cried,  shaking  her  hand  warmly.  "  And  you  are 
looking  so  well.  Poor  Martha  has  been  on  pins  and 
needles  waiting  for  you.  I  told  her  just  how  it  would 
be — that  she'd  lose  her  little  girl — and  she  has," 
and  he  glanced  at  her  admiringly.  "  What  did  she 
say  when  she  saw  you  ? " 

"  Oh,  the  silly  old  thing  began  to  cry,  just  as  they 
all  do.  Have  you  seen  her  dog  ?  " 

The  answer  jarred  on  the  doctor,  although  he  ex- 
27 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

cused  her  in  his  heart  on  the  ground  of  her  youth  and 
her  desire  to  appear  at  ease  in  talking  to  him. 

"Do  you  mean  Meg  ?  "  he  asked,  scanning  her  face 
the  closer. 

"  I  don't  know  what  she  calls  him — but  he's  the 
ugliest  little  beast  I  ever  saw.'7 

"  Yes — but  so  amusing.  I  never  get  tired  of 
watching  him.  What  is  left  of  him  is  the  funniest 
thing  alive.  He's  better  than  he  looks,  though.  He 
and  Rex  have  great  times  together." 

"  I  wish  you  would  take  him,  then.  I  told  Martha 
this  morning  that  he  mustn't  poke  his  nose  into  my 
room,  and  he  won't.  He's  a  perfect  f right. " 

"  But  the  dear  old  woman  loves  him,"  he  pro 
tested  with  a  tender  tone  in  his  voice,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  Lucy. 

He  had  looked  into  the  faces  of  too  many  young 
girls  in  his  professional  career  not  to  know  some 
thing  of  what  lay  at  the  bottom  of  their  natures. 
What  he  saw  now  came  as  a  distinct  surprise. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does,"  she  retorted ;  "  no,  I 
don't,"  and  she  knit  her  brow  and  shook  her  pretty 
head  as  she  laughed. 

While  they  stood  talking  Bart  Holt,  who  had 
lingered  at  the  threshold,  his  eyes  searching  for  the 
fair  arrival,  was  advancing  toward  the  centre  of  the 
room.  Suddenly  he  stood  still,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the 
vision  of  the  girl  in  the  clinging  dress,  with  the  blos- 

28 


SPUING   BLOSSOMS 

soms  resting  on  her  breast.  The  curve  of  her  back, 
the  round  of  the  hip;  the  way  her  moulded  shoul 
ders  rose  above  the  lace  of  her  bodice ;  the  bare,  full 
arms  tapering  to  the  wrists ; — the  color,  the  move 
ment,  the  grace  of  it  all  had  taken  away  his  breath. 
With  only  a  side  nod  of  recognition  toward  Jane, 
he  walked  straight  to  Lucy  and  with  an  "  Excuse 
me,"  elbowed  the  doctor  out  of  the  way  in  his  eager 
ness  to  reach  the  girl's  side.  The  doctor  smiled  at 
the  young  man's  impetuosity,  bent  his  head  to  Lucy, 
and  turned  to  where  Jane  was  standing  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  her  other  guests. 

The  young  man  extended  his  hand.  "  Fm  Bart 
Holt,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  you  haven't  forgotten  me, 
Miss  Lucy,  have  you?  We  used  to  play  together. 
Mighty  glad  to  see  you — been  expecting  you  for  a 
week." 

Lucy  colored  slightly  and  arched  her  head  in  a 
coquettish  way.  His  frankness  pleased  her;  so  did 
the  look  of  unfeigned  admiration  in  his  eyes. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  haven't  forgotten  you,  Mr. 
Holt.  It  was  so  nice  of  you  to  come,"  and  she  gave 
him  the  tips  of  her  fingers — her  own  eyes  mean 
while,  in  one  comprehensive  glance,  taking  in  his 
round  head  with  its  closely  cropped  curls,  searching 
brown  eyes,  wavering  mouth,  broad  shoulders,  and 
shapely  body,  down  to  his  small,  well-turned  feet. 
The  young  fellow  lacked  the  polish  and  well-bred 

29 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

grace  of  the  doctor,  just  as  he  lacked  his  well-cut 
clothes  and  distinguished  manners,  but  there  was  a 
sort  of  easy  effrontery  and  familiar  air  about  him 
that  some  of  his  women  admirers  encouraged  and 
others  shrank  from.  Strange  to  say,  this  had  ap 
pealed  to  Lucy  before  he  had  spoken  a  word. 

"  And  youVe  come  home  for  good  now,  haven't 
you  ?  "  His  eyes  were  still  drinking  in  the  beauty 
of  the  girl,  his  mind  neither  on  his  questions  nor 
her  answers. 

"  Yes,  forever  and  ever,"  she  replied,  with  a  laugh 
that  showed  her  white  teeth. 

"  Did  you  like  it  at  school  ?  "  It  was  her  lips 
now  that  held  his  attention  and  the  little  curves 
under  her  dimpled  chin.  He  thought  he  had  never 
seen  so  pretty  a  mouth  and  chin. 

"  Not  always ;  but  we  used  to  have  lots  of  f  un," 
answered  the  girl,  studying  him  in  return — the  way 
his  cravat  was  tied  and  the  part  of  his  hair.  She 
thought  he  had  well-shaped  ears  and  that  his  nose 
and  eyebrows  looked  like  a  picture  she  had  in  her 
room  upstairs. 

"  Come  and  tell  me  about  it.  Let's  sit  down 
here,"  he  continued  as  he  drew  her  to  a  sofa  and 
stood  waiting  until  she  took  her  seat. 

"  Well,  I  will  for  a  moment,  until  they  begin  to 
come  in,"  she  answered,  her  face  all  smiles.  She 
liked  the  way  he  behaved  towards  her — not  asking 

30 


SPKBsTG   BLOSSOMS 

her  permission,  but  taking  the  responsibility  and  by 
his  manner  compelling  a  sort  of  obedience.  "  But  I 
can't  stay/'  she  added.  "  Sister  won't  like  it  if  I'm 
not  with  her  to  shake  hands  with  everybody." 

"  Oh,  she  won't  mind  me ;  I'm  a  great  friend  of 
Miss  Jane's.  Please  go  on;  what  kind  of  fun  did 
you  have  ?  I  like  to  hear  about  girls'  scrapes.  We 
had  plenty  of  them  at  college,  but  I  couldn't  tell 
you  half  of  them."  He  had  settled  himself  beside 
her  now,  his  appropriating  eyes  still  taking  in  her 
beauty. 

"  Oh,  all  kinds,"  she  replied  as  she  bent  her  head 
and  glanced  at  the  blossoms  on  her  breast  to  be 
assured  of  their  protective  covering. 

"  But  I  shouldn't  think  you  could  have  much  fun 
with  the  teachers  watching  you  every  minute,"  said 
Bart,  moving  nearer  to  her  and  turning  his  body 
so  he  could  look  squarely  into  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  but  they  didn't  find  out  half  that  was  going 
on."  Then  she  added  coyly,  "  I  don't  know  whether 
you  can  keep  a  secret — do  you  tell  everything  you 
hear?" 

"  Never  tell  anything." 

"How  do  I  know?" 

"  I'll  swear  it."  In  proof  he  held  up  one  hand 
and  closed  both  eyes  in  mock  reverence  as  if  he  were 
taking  an  oath.  He  was  getting  more  interested  now 
in  her  talk;  up  to  this  time  her  beauty  had  dazzled 

31 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARXEGAT 

him.  "  Xever !  So  help  me —  he  mumbled  im 
pressively. 

"  Well,  one  day  we  were  walking  out  to  the  park — 
Now  you're  sure  you  won't  tell  sister,  she's  so  easily 
shocked  ?  "  The  tone  was  the  same,  but  the  inflection 
was  shaded  to  closer  intimacy. 

Again  Bart  cast  up  his  eyes. 

"  And  all  the  girls  were  in  a  string  with  Miss 
Griggs,  the  Latin  teacher,  in  front,  and  we  all  went 
in  a  cake  shop  and  got  a  big  piece  of  gingerbread 
apiece.  We  were  all  eating  away  hard  as  we  could 
when  we  saw  Miss  Sarah  coming.  Every  girl  let  her 
cake  go,  and  when  Miss  Sarah  got  to  us  the  whole 
ten  pieces  were  scattered  along  the  sidewalk." 

Bart  looked  disappointed  over  the  mild  character 
of  the  scrape.  From  what  he  had  seen  of  her  he 
had  supposed  her  adventures  would  be  seasoned  with 
a  certain  spice  of  deviltry. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  done  that,  I'd  have  hidden  it 
in  my  pocket,"  he  replied,  sliding  down  on  the  sofa 
until  his  head  rested  on  the  cushion  next  her  own. 

"  We  tried,  but  she  was  too  close.  Poor  old  Grigg- 
sey  got  a  dreadful  scolding.  She  wasn't  like  Miss 
Jones — she  wouldn't  tell  on  the  girls." 

"  And  did  they  let  any  of  the  fellows  come  to  see 
you  ?  "  Bart  asked. 

"  No ;  only  brothers  and  cousins  once  in  a  long 
while.  Maria  Collins  tried  to  pass  one  of  her  beaux, 

32 


SPRING   BLOSSOMS 

Max  Feilding,  off  as  a  cousin,  but  Miss  Sarah  went 
down  to  see  him  and  poor  Maria  had  to  stay  up 
stairs." 

"  I'd  kave  got  in/'  said  Bart  with  some  emphasis, 
rousing  kimself  from  his  position  and  twisting  his 
body  so  he  could  again  look  squarely  in  her  face. 
This  escapade  was  more  to  his  liking. 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Lucy  in  a  tone  that  showed  she 
not  only  quite  believed  it,  but  rather  liked  him  the 
better  for  saying  so. 

"  Oh  I  don't  know.  I'd  have  cooked  up  some 
story."  He  was  leaning  over  now,  toying  with  the 
lace  that  clung  to  Lucy's  arms.  "  Did  you  ever  have 
any  one  of  your  own  friends  treated  in  that  way  ?  " 

Jane's  voice  cut  short  her  answer.  She  had  seen 
the  two  completely  absorbed  in  each  other,  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  other  guests  who  were  now  coming 
in,  and  wanted  Lucy  beside  her. 

The  young  girl  waved  her  fan  gayly  in  answer, 
rose  to  her  feet,  turned  her  head  close  to  Bart's, 
pointed  to  the  incoming  guests,  whispered  something 
in  his  ear  that  made  him  laugh,  listened  while  he 
whispered  to  her  in  return,  and  in  obedience  to  the 
summons  crossed  the  room  to  meet  a  group  of  the 
neighbors,  among  them  old  Judge  Woolworthy,  in  a 
snuff-colored  coat,  high  black  stock,  and  bald  head, 
and  his  bustling  little  wife.  Bart's  last  whisper  to 
Lucy  was  in  explanation  of  the  little  wife's  manner 

33 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABXEGAT 

—who  now,  all  bows  and  smiles,  was  shaking  hands 
with  everybody  about  her. 

Then  came  Uncle  Ephraim  Tipple,  and  close  be 
side  him  walked  his  spouse,  Ann,  in  a  camePs-hair 
shawl  and  poke-bonnet,  the  two  preceded  by  Uncle 
Ephraim' s  stentorian  laugh,  which  had  been  heard 
before  their  feet  had  touched  the  porch  outside. 
Mrs.  Cromartin  now  bustled  in,  accompanied  by  her 
two  daughters — slim,  awkward  girls,  both  dressed 
alike  in  high  waists  and  short  frocks ;  and  after  them 
the  Bunsbys,  father,  mother,  and  son — all  smiles, 
the  last  a  painfully  thin  young  lawyer,  in  a  low  collar 
and  a  shock  of  whitey-brown  hair,  "  looking  like  a 
patent  window-mop  resting  against  a  wall,"  so  Lucy 
described  him  afterward  to  Martha  when  she  was 
putting  her  to  bed ;  and  finally  the  Coif  ords  and  Bron- 
sons,  young  and  old,  together  with  Pastor  Dellen- 
baugh,  the  white-haired  clergyman  who  preached  in 
the  only  church  in  Warehold. 

When  Lucy  had  performed  her  duty  and  the  sev 
eral  greetings  were  over,  and  Uncle  Ephraim  had 
shaken  the  hand  of  the  young  hostess  in  true  pump- 
handle  fashion,  the  old  man  roaring  with  laughter 
all  the  time,  as  if  it  were  the  funniest  thing  in  the 
world  to  find  her  alive;  and  the  good  clergyman  in 
his  mildest  and  most  impressive  manner  had  said  she 
grew  more  and  more  like  her  mother  every  day— 
which  was  a  flight  of  imagination  on  the  part  of 

34 


SPKING   BLOSSOMS 

the  dear  man,  for  she  didn't  resemble  her  in  the 
least;  and  the  two  thin  girls  had  remarked  that  it 
must  be  so  "  perfectly  blissful "  to  get  home ;  and 
the  young  lawyer  had  complimented  her  on  her  won 
derful,  almost  life-like  resemblance  to  her  grand 
father,  whose  portrait  hung  in  the  court-house — and 
which  was  nearer  the  truth — to  all  of  which  the 
young  girl  replied  in  her  most  gracious  tones,  thank 
ing  them  for  their  kindness  in  coming  to  see  her 
and  for  welcoming  her  so  cordially — the  whole  of 
Lucy's  mind  once  more  reverted  to  Bart. 

Indeed,  the  several  lobes  of  her  brain  had  been 
working  in  opposition  for  the  past  hour.  While  one- 
half  of  her  mind  was  concocting  polite  speeches  for 
her  guests  the  other  was  absorbed  in  the  fear  that 
Bart  would  either  get  tired  of  waiting  for  her  return 
and  leave  the  sofa,  or  that  some  other  girl  friend 
of  his  would  claim  him  and  her  delightful  talk  be 
at  an  end. 

To  the  young  girl  fresh  from  school  Bart  repre 
sented  the  only  thing  in  the  room  that  was  entirely 
alive.  The  others  talked  platitudes  and  themselves. 
He  had  encouraged  her  to  talk  of  herself  and  of  the 
things  she  liked.  He  had,  too,  about  him  an  assur 
ance  and  dominating  personality  which,  although  it 
made  her  a  little  afraid  of  him,  only  added  to  his 
attractiveness. 

While  she  stood  wondering  how  many  times  the 
35 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAR^EGAT 

white-haired  young  lawyer  would  tell  her  it  was  so 
nice  to  have  her  back,  she  felt  a  slight  pressure  011 
her  arm  and  turned  to  face  Bart. 

"  You  are  wanted,  please,  Miss  Lucy ;  may  I  offer 
you  my  arm?  Excuse  me,  Bunsby — I'll  give  her  to 
you  again  in  a  minute." 

Lucy  slipped  her  arm  into  Bart's,  and  asked  sim 
ply,  "What  for?" 

"  To  finish  our  talk,  of  course.  Do  you  suppose 
I'm  going  to  let  that  tow-head  monopolize  you  ?  "  he 
answered,  pressing  her  arm  closer  to  his  side  with 
his  own. 

Lucy  laughed  and  tapped  Bart  with  her  fan  in 
rebuke,  and  then  there  followed  a  bit  of  coquetry  in 
which  the  young  girl  declared  that  he  was  "  too  mean 
for  anything,  and  that  she'd  never  seen  anybody  so 
conceited,  and  if  he  only  knew,  she  might  really 
prefer  the  'tow  head '  to  his  own ;  "  to  which  Bart 
answered  that  his  only  excuse  was  that  he  was  so 
lonely  he  was  nearly  dead,  and  that  he  had  only  come 
to  save  his  life — the  whole  affair  culminating  in  his 
conducting  her  back  to  the  sofa  with  a  great  flourish 
and  again  seating  himself  beside  her. 

"  I've  been  watching  you,"  he  began  when  he  had 
made  her  comfortable  with  a  small  cushion  behind 
her  shoulders  and  another  for  her  pretty  feet.  "  You 
don't  act  a  bit  like  Miss  Jane."  As  he  spoke  he 
leaned  forward  and  flicked  an  imaginary  something 

36 


SPKING    BLOSSOMS 

from  her  bare  wrist  with  that  air  which  always 
characterized  his  early  approaches  to  most  women. 

"  Why  ? "  Lucy  asked,  pleased  at  his  attentions 
and  thanking  him  with  a  more  direct  look. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  You're  more  jolly,  I  think. 
I  don't  like  girls  who  turn  out  to  be  solemn  after  you 
know  them  a  while;  I  was  afraid  you  might.  You 
know  it's  a  long  time  since  I  saw  you." 

"  Why,  then,  sister  can't  be  solemn,  for  everybody 
says  you  and  she  are  great  friends,"  she  replied  with 
a  light  laugh,  readjusting  the  lace  of  her  bodice. 

"  So  we  are ;  nobody  about  here  I  think  as  much 
of  as  I  do  of  your  sister.  She's  been  mighty  good 
to  me.  But  you  know  what  I  mean:  I  mean  those 
don't-touch-me  kind  of  girls  who  are  always  think 
ing  you  mean  a  lot  of  things  when  you're  only  trying 
to  be  nice  and  friendly  to  them.  I  like  to  be  a 
brother  to  a  girl  and  to  go  sailing  with  her,  and  fish 
ing,  and  not  have  her  bother  me  about  her  feet  getting 
a  little  bit  wet,  and  not  scream  bloody  murder  when 
the  boat  gives  a  lurch.  That's  the  kind  of  girl  that's 
worth  having." 

"  And  you  don't  find  them  ?  "  laughed  Lucy,  look 
ing  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

"  Well,  not  many.  Do  you  mind  little  things  like 
that?" 

As  he  spoke  his  eyes  wandered  over  her  bare  shoul 
ders  until  they  rested  on  the  blossoms,  the  sort  of 

37 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

roaming,  critical  eyes  that  often  cause  a  woman  to 
wonder  whether  some  part  of  her  toilet  has  not  been 
carelessly  put  together.  Then  he  added,  with  a  sud 
den  lowering  of  his  voice :  "  That's  a  nice  posy  you've 
got.  Who  sent  it  ? "  and  he  bent  his  head  as  if  to 
smell  the  cluster  on  her  bosom. 

Lucy  drew  back  and  a  slight  flush  suffused  her 
cheek;  his  audacity  frightened  her.  She  was  fond 
of  admiration,  but  this  way  of  expressing  it  was  new 
to  her.  The  young  man  caught  the  movement  and 
recovered  himself.  He  had  ventured  on  a  thin  spot, 
as  was  his  custom,  and  the  sound  of  the  cracking  ice 
had  warned  him  in  time. 

"  Oh,  I  see,  they're  apple  blossoms,"  he  added 
carelessly  as  he  straightened  up.  "  We've  got  a  lot 
in  our  orchard.  You  like  flowers,  I  see."  The  even 
tone  and  perfect  self-possession  of  the  young  man 
reassured  her. 

"  Oh,  I  adore  them ;  don't  you  ? "  Lucy  answered 
in  a  relieved,  almost  apologetic  voice.  She  was  sorry 
she  had  misjudged  him.  She  liked  him  rather  the 
better  now  for  her  mistake. 

"  Well,  that  depends.  Apple  blossoms  never 
looked  pretty  to  me  before ;  but  then  it  makes  a  good 
deal  of  difference  where  they  are,"  answered  Bart 
with  a  low  chuckle. 

Jane  had  been  watching  the  two  and  had  noticed 
Bart's  position  and  manner.  His  easy  familiarity 

38 


SPRING   BLOSSOMS 

of  pose  offended  her.  Instinctively  she  glanced  about 
the  room,  wondering  if  any  of  her  guests  had  seen  it. 
That  Lucy  did  not  resent  it  surprised  her.  She 
supposed  her  sister's  recent  training  would  have 
made  her  a  little  more  fastidious. 

"  Come,  Lucy,"  she  called  gently,  moving  toward 
her,  "  bring  Bart  over  here  and  join  the  other 
girls." 

"  All  right,  Miss  Jane,  we'll  be  there  in  a  minute," 
Bart  answered  in  Lucy's  stead.  Then  he  bent  his 
head  and  said  in  a  low  voice: 

"  Won't  you  give  me  half  those  blossoms  ?  " 

"  No ;  it  would  spoil  the  bunch." 

"  Please " 

"  No,  not  a  single  one.  You  wouldn't  care  for 
them,  anyway." 

"  Yes,  I  would."  Here  he  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  touched  the  blossoms  on  her  neck. 

Lucy  ducked  her  head  in  merry  glee,  sprang  up, 
and  with  a  triumphant  curtsy  and  a  "  No,  you  don't, 
sir — not  this  time,"  joined  her  sister,  followed  by 
Bart. 

The  guests  were  now  separated  into  big  and  little 
groups.  Uncle  Ephraim  and  the  judge  were  hob 
nobbing  around  the  fireplace,  listening  to  Uncle 
Ephraim's  stories  and  joining  in  the  laughter  which 
every  now  and  then  filled  the*  room.  Captain  Nat 
was  deep  in  a  discussion  with  Doctor  John  over  some 

39 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

seafaring  matter,  and  Jane  and  Mrs.  Benson  were 
discussing  a  local  charity  with  Pastor  Dellenbaugh. 

The  younger  people  being  left  to  themselves  soon 
began  to  pair  off,  the  white-haired  young  lawyer  dis 
appearing  with  the  older  Miss  Cromartin  and  Bart 
soon  following  with  Lucy: — the  outer  porch  and 
the  long  walk  down  the  garden  path  among  the 
trees,  despite  the  chilliness  of  the  night,  seemed  to 
be  the  only  place  in  which  they  could  be  comfort 
able. 

During  a  lull  in  the  discussion  of  Captain  Nat's 
maritime  news  and  while  Mrs.  Benson  was  talking 
to  the  pastor,  Doctor  John  seized  the  opportunity 
to  seat  himself  again  by  Jane. 

"  Don't  you  think  Lucy  improved  ?  "  she  asked, 
motioning  the  doctor  to  a  place  beside  her. 

"  She's  much  more  beautiful  than  I  thought  she 
would  be,"  he  answered  in  a  hesitating  way,  looking 
toward  Lucy,  and  seating  himself  in  his  favorite 
attitude,  hands  in  his  lap,  one  leg  crossed  over  the 
other  and  hanging  straight  beside  its  fellow ;  only  a 
man  like  the  doctor,  of  more  than  usual  repose  and  of 
a  certain  elegance  of  form,  Jane  always  said,  could 
sit  this  way  any  length  of  time  and  be  comfortable 
and  unconscious  of  his  posture.  Then  he  added 
slowly,  and  as  if  he  had  given  the  subject  some  con 
sideration,  "  You  won't  keep  her  long,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,"  Jane  cried  with  a  nervous 
40 


SPKIXG   BLOSSOMS 

start.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  would  do  if  she  should 
marry." 

"  That  don't  sound  like  you,  Miss  Jane.  You 
would  be  the  first  to  deny  yourself.  You  are  too 
good  to  do  otherwise."  He  spoke  with  a  slight  quiver 
in  his  voice,  and  yet  with  an  emphasis  that  showed 
he  believed  it. 

"  No ;  it  is  you  who  are  good  to  think  so,"  she 
replied  in  a  softer  tone,  bending  her  head  as  she 
spoke,  her  eyes  intent  on  her  fan.  "  And  now  tell 
me,"  she  added  quickly,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  as  if 
to  bar  any  further  tribute  he  might  be  on  the  point 
of  paying  to  her — "  I  hear  your  mother  takes  greatly 
to  heart  your  having  refused  the  hospital  appoint 
ment." 

"  Yes,  I'm  afraid  she  does.  Mother  has  a  good 
many  new-fashioned  notions  nowadays."  He  laughed 
— a  mellow,  genial  laugh ;  more  in  the  spirit  of  apol 
ogy  than  of  criticism. 

"  And  you  don't  want  to  go  ?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  his. 

"  Want  to  go  ?  ISTo,  why  should  I  ?  There  would 
be  nobody  to  look  after  the  people  here  if  I  went 
away.  You  don't  want  me  to  leave,  do  you  ? "  he 
added  suddenly  in  an  anxious  tone. 

"  Nobody  does,  doctor,"  she  replied,  parrying  the 
question,  her  face  flushing  with  pleasure. 

Here  Martha  entered  the  room  hurriedly  and 
41 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

bending  over  Jane's  shoulder,  whispered  something 
in  her  ear.  The  doctor  straightened  himself  and 
leaned  back  out  of  hearing. 

"Well,  but  I  don't  think  she  will  take  cold/' 
Jane  whispered  in  return,  looking  up  into  Martha's 
face.  "  Has  she  anything  around  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  big  red  cloak ;  but  the  child's  head  is 
bare  and  there's  mighty  little  on  her  neck,  and  she 
ought  to  come  in.  The  wind's  begun  to  blow  and  it's 
gettin'  cold." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  Jane  continued,  her  face  show 
ing  her  surprise  at  Martha's  statement. 

"  Out  by  the  gate  with  that  dare-devil.  He  don't 
care  who  he  gives  cold.  I  told  her  she'd  get  her 
death,  but  she  won't  mind  me." 

"  Why,  Martha,  how  can  you  talk  so !  "  Jane  re 
torted,  with  a  disapproving  f  rown.  Then  raising  her 
voice  so  that  the  doctor  could  be  brought  into  the 
conversation,  she  added  in  her  natural  tone,  "  Whom 
did  you  say  she  was  with  ? " 

"  Bart  Holt,"  cried  Martha  aloud,  nodding  to  the 
doctor  as  if  to  get  his  assistance  in  saving  her  bairn 
from  possible  danger. 

Jane  colored  slightly  and  turned  to  Doctor  John. 

"  You  go  please,  doctor,  and  bring  them  all  in, 
or  you  may  have  some  new  patients  on  your 
hands." 

The  doctor  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  doubt 
42 


SPKING   BLOSSOMS 

as  to  the  cause  of  his  selection,  but  Jane's  face 
showed  none  of  the  anxiety  in  Martha's. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  he  answered  simply ;  "  but  I'll 
get  myself  into  a  hornet's  nest.  These  young  people 
don't  like  to  be  told  what's  good  for  them,"  he  added 
with  a  laugh,  rising  from  his  seat.  "  And  after  that 
you'll  permit  me  to  slip  away  without  telling  any 
body,  won't  you  ?  My  last  minute  has  come,"  and  he 
glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  Going  so  soon  ?  Why,  I  wanted  you  to  stay  for 
supper.  It  will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes."  Her 
voice  had  lost  its  buoyancy  now.  She  never  wanted 
him  to  go.  She  never  let  him  know  it,  but  it  pained 
her  all  the  same. 

"  I  would  like  to,  but  I  cannot."  All  his  heart 
was  in  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

"  Someone  ill  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  Fogarty's  child.  The  little  fellow  may 
develop  croup  before  morning.  I  saw  him  to-day, 
and  his  pulse  was  not  right.  He's  a  sturdy  little 
chap  with  a  thick  neck,  and  that  kind  always  suffers 
most.  If  he's  worse  Fogarty  is  to  send  word  to  my 
office,"  he  added,  holding  out  his  hand  in  parting. 

"  Can  I  help  ?  "  Jane  asked,  retaining  the  doctor's 
hand  in  hers  as  if  to  get  the  answer. 

"  No,  I'll  watch  him  closely.  Good-night,"  and 
with  a  smile  he  bent  his  head  and  withdrew. 

Martha  followed  the  doctor  to  the  outer  door, 
43 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

and  then  grumbling  her  satisfaction  went  back  to 
the  pantry  to  direct  the  servants  in  arranging  upon 
the  small  table  in  the  supper-room  the  simple  refresh 
ments  which  always  characterized  the  Cobdens'  en 
tertainments. 

Soon  the  girls  and  their  beaux  came  trooping  in 
to  join  their  elders  on  the  way  to  the  supper-room. 
Lucy  hung  back  until  the  last  (she  had  not  liked  the 
doctor's  interference),  Jane's  long  red  cloak  draped 
from  her  shoulders,  the  hood  hanging  down  her  back, 
her  cheeks  radiant,  her  beautiful  blond  hair  ruffled 
with  the  night  wind,  an  aureole  of  gold  framing  her 
face.  Bart  followed  close  behind,  a  pleased,  almost 
triumphant  smile  playing  about  his  lips. 

He  had  carried  his  point.  The  cluster  of  blos 
soms  which  had  rested  upon  Lucy's  bosom  was  pinned 
to  the  lapel  of  his  coat 


44 


CHAPTEK   III 

LITTLE     TOD     FOGARTY 

With  the  warmth  of  Jane's  parting  grasp  linger 
ing  in  his  own  Doctor  John  untied  the  mare,  sprang 
into  his  gig,  and  was  soon  clear  of  the  village  and 
speeding  along  the  causeway  that  stretched  across 
the  salt  marshes  leading  past  his  own  home  to  the 
inner  beach  beyond.  As  he  drove  slowly  through  his 
own  gate,  so  as  to  make  as  little  noise  as  possible, 
the  cottage,  blanketed  under  its  clinging  vines, 
seemed  in  the  soft  light  of  the  low-lying  moon  to  be 
fast  asleep.  Only  one  eye  was  open;  this  was  the 
window  of  his  office,  through  which  streamed  the 
glow  of  a  lamp,  its  light  falling  on  the  gravel  path 
and  lilac  bushes  beyond. 

Rex  gave  a  bark  of  welcome  and  raced  beside  the 
wheels. 

"  Keep  still,  old  dog !  Down,  Eex !  Been 
lonely,  old  fellow  ?  " 

The  dog  in  answer  leaped  in  the  air  as  his  master 
drew  rein,  and  with  eager  springs  tried  to  reach  his 
hands,  barking  all  the  while  in  short  and  joyful 
yelps. 

45 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKXEGAT 

Doctor  John  threw  the  lines  across  the  dash-board, 
jumped  from  the  gig,  and  pushing  open  the  hall 
door — it  was  never  locked — stepped  quickly  into  his 
office,  and  turning  up  the  lamp,  threw  himself  into 
a  chair  at  his  desk.  The  sorrel  made  no  attempt  to 
go  to  the  stable — both  horse  and  man  were  accus 
tomed  to  delays — sometimes  of  long  hours  and  some 
times  of  whole  nights. 

The  appointments  and  fittings  of  the  office — old- 
fashioned  and  practical  as  they  were — reflected  in 
a  marked  degree  the  aims  and  tastes  of  the  occupant. 
While  low  bookcases  stood  against  the  walls  sur 
mounted  by  rows  of  test-tubes,  mortars  and  pestles, 
cases  of  instruments,  and  a  line  of  bottles  labelled 
with  names  of  various  mixtures  (in  those  days  doc 
tors  were  chemists  as  well  as  physicians),  there  could 
also  be  found  a  bust  of  the  young  Augustus ;  one  or 
two  lithographs  of  Heidelberg,  where  he  had  studied ; 
and  some  line  engravings  in  black  frames — one  a 
view  of  Oxford  with  the  Thames  wandering  by, 
another  a  portrait  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and 
still  another  of  E~ell  Gwynn.  Scattered  about  the 
room  were  easy-chairs  and  small  tables  piled  high 
with  books,  a  copy  of  Tacitus  and  an  early  ^edition 
of  Milton  being  among  them,  while  under  the  wide, 
low  window  stood  a  narrow  bench  crowded  with  flow 
ering  plants  in  earthen  pots,  the  remnants  of  the 
winter's  bloom.  There  were  also  souvenirs  of  his 

46 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGAKTY 

earlier  student  life — a  life  which  few  of  his  friends 
in  Warehold,  except  Jane  Cobden,  knew  or  cared 
anything  about — including  a  pair  of  crossed  foils 
and  two  boxing-gloves ;  these  last  hung  over  a  portrait 
of  Macaulay. 

What  the  place  lacked  was  the  touch  of  a  woman's 
hand  in  vase,  flower,  or  ornament — a  touch  that  his 
mother,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  never  gave  and  which 
no  other  woman  had  yet  dared  suggest. 

For  an  instant  the  doctor  sat  with  his  elbows  on 
the  desk  in  deep  thought,  the  light  illuminating  his 
calm,  finely  chiselled  features  and  hands — those  thin, 
sure  hands  which  could  guide  a  knife  within  a  hair's 
breadth  of  instant  death — and  leaning  forward,  with 
an  indrawn  sigh  examined  some  letters  lying  under 
his  eye.  Then,  as  if  suddenly  remembering,  he 
glanced  at  the  office  slate,  his  face  lighting  up  as  he 
found  it  bare  of  any  entry  except  the  date. 

Rex  had  been  watching  his  master  with  ears 
cocked,  and  was  now  on  his  haunches,  cuddling 
close,  his  nose  resting  on  the  doctor's  knee.  Doctor 
John  laid  his  hand  on  the  dog's  head  and  smoothing 
the  long,  silky  ears,  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  as  he 
settled  himself  in  his  chair: 

"  Little  Tod  must  be  better,  Rex,  and  we  are  going 
to  have  a  quiet  night." 

The  anxiety  over  his  patients  relieved,  his  thoughts 
reverted  to  Jane  and  their  talk.  He  remembered  the 

47 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARSTEGAT 

tone  of  her  voice  and  the  quick  way  in  which  she 
had  warded  off  his  tribute  to  her  goodness ;  he  recalled 
her  anxiety  over  Lucy ;  he  looked  again  into  the  deep, 
trusting  eyes  that  gazed  into  his  as  she  appealed  to 
him  for  assistance;  he  caught  once  more  the  poise 
of  the  head  as  she  listened  to  his  account  of  little 
Tod  Eogarty's  illness  and  heard  her  quick  offer  to 
help,  and  felt  for  the  second  time  her  instant  tender 
ness  and  sympathy,  never  withheld  from  the  sick 
and  suffering,  and  always  so  generous  and  sponta 
neous. 

A  certain  feeling  of  thankfulness  welled  up  in 
his  heart.  Perhaps  she  had  at  last  begun  to  depend 
upon  him — a  dependence  which,  with  a  woman  such 
as  Jane,  must,  he  felt  sure,  eventually  end  in  love. 

With  these  thoughts  filling  his  mind,  he  settled 
deeper  in  his  chair.  These  were  the  times  in  which 
he  loved  to  think  of  her — when,  with  pipe  in  mouth, 
he  could  sit  alone  by  his  fire  and  build  castles  in  the 
coals,  every  rosy  mountain-top  aglow  with  the  love 
he  bore  her;  with  no  watchful  mother's  face  trying 
to  fathom  his  thoughts;  only  his  faithful  dog 
stretched  at  his  feet. 

Picking  up  his  brierwood,  lying  on  a  pile  of  books 
on  his  desk,  and  within  reach  of  his  hand,  he  started 
to  fill  the  bowl,  when  a  scrap  of  paper  covered  with 
a  scrawl  written  in  pencil  came  into  view.  He 
turned  it  to  the  light  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

48 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGARTY 

"  Tod  worse/'  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  wonder 
how  long  this  has  been  here." 

The  dog  was  now  beside  him  looking  up  into  the 
doctor's  eyes.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had 
seen  his  master's  face  grow  suddenly  serious  as  he 
had  read  the  tell-tale  slate  or  had  opened  some  note 
awaiting  his  arrival. 

Doctor  John  lowered  the  lamp,  stepped  noiselessly 
to  the  foot  of  the  winding  stairs  that  led  to  the  sleep 
ing  rooms  above — the  dog  close  at  his  heels,  watch 
ing  his  every  movement — and  called  gently : 

"  Mother !  mother,  dear !  "  He  never  left  his 
office  when  she  was  at  home  and  awake  without  tell 
ing  her  where  he  was  going. 

No  one  answered. 

"  She  is  asleep.  I  will  slip  out  without  waking 
her.  Stay  where  you  are,  Rex — I  will  be  back  some 
time  before  daylight,"  and  throwing  his  night-cloak 
about  his  shoulders,  he  started  for  his  gig. 

The  dog  stopped  with  his  paws  resting  on  the 
outer  edge  of  the  top  step  of  the  porch,  the  line  he 
was  not  to  pass,  and  looked  wistfully  after  the  doctor. 
His  loneliness  was  to  continue,  and  his  poor  master 
to  go  out  into  the  night  alone.  His  tail  ceased  to  wag, 
only  his  eyes  moved. 

Once  outside  Doctor  John  patted  the  mare's  neck 
as  if  in  apology  and  loosened  the  reins.  "  Come, 
old  girl,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  sorry,  but  it  can't  be  helped," 

49 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARSTEGAT 

and  springing  into  the  gig,  he  walked  the  mare  clear 
of  the  gravel  beyond  the  gate,  so  as  not  to  rouse 
his  mother,  touched  her  lightly  with  the  whip,  and 
sent  her  spinning  along  the  road  on  the  way  to 
Fogarty's. 

The  route  led  toward  the  sea,  branching  off  within 
the  sight  of  the  cottage  porch,  past  the  low,  conical 
ice-houses  used  by  the  fishermen  in  which  to  cool 
their  fish  during  the  hot  weather,  along  the  sand- 
dunes,  and  down  a  steep  grade  to  the  shore.  The 
tide  was  making  flood,  and  the  crawling  surf  spent 
itself  in  long  shelving  reaches  of  foam.  These  so 
packed  the  sand  that  the  wheels  of  the  gig  hardly 
made  an  impression  upon  it.  Along  this  smooth 
surface  the  mare  trotted  briskly,  her  nimble  feet  wet 
with  the  farthest  reaches  of  the  incoming  wash. 

As  he  approached  the  old  House  of  Refuge,  black 
in  the  moonlight  and  looking  twice  its  size  in  the 
stretch  of  the  endless  beach,  he  noticed  for  the  hun 
dredth  time  how  like  a  crouching  woman  it  appeared, 
with  its  hipped  roof  hunched  up  like  a  shoulder  close 
propped  against  the  dune  and  its  overhanging  eaves 
but  a  draped  hood  shading  its  thoughtful  brow;  an 
illusion  which  vanished  when  its  square  form,  with 
its  wide  door  and  long  platform  pointing  to  the  sea, 
came  into  view. 

More  than  once  in  its  brief  history  the  doctor  had 
seen  the  volunteer  crew,  aroused  from  their  cabins 

50 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGAKTY 

along  the  shore  by  the  boom  of  a  gun  from  some 
stranded  vessel,  throw  wide  its  door  and  with  a  wild 
cheer  whirl  the  life-boat  housed  beneath  its  roof  into 
the  boiling  surf,  and  many  a  time  had  he  helped  to 
bring  back  to  life  the  benumbed  bodies  drawn  from 
the  merciless  sea  by  their  strong  arms. 

There  were  other  houses  like  it  up  and  down  the 
coast.  Some  had  remained  unused  for  years,  deso 
late  and  forlorn,  no  unhappy  ship  having  foundered 
or  struck  the  breakers  within  their  reach;  others 
had  been  in  constant  use.  The  crews  were  gathered 
from  the  immediate  neighborhood  by  the  custodian, 
who  was  the  only  man  to  receive  pay  from  the 
Government.  If  he  lived  near  by  he  kept  the  key; 
if  not,  the  nearest  fisherman  held  it.  Fogarty,  the 
father  of  the  sick  child,  and  whose  cabin  was  within 
gunshot  of  this  house,  kept  the  key  this  year.  No 
other  protection  was  given  these  isolated  houses  and 
none  was  needed.  These  black-hooded  Sisters  of  the 
Coast,  keeping  their  lonely  vigils,  were  as  safe  from 
beach-combers  and  sea-prowlers  as  their  white-capped 
namesakes  would  have  been  threading  the  lonely 
suburbs  of  some  city. 

The  sound  of  the  mare's  feet  on  the  oyster-shell 
path  outside  his  cabin  brought  Fogarty,  a  tall,  thin, 
weather-beaten  fisherman,  to  the  door.  He  was  still 
wearing  his  hip-boots  and  sou'wester — he  was  just  in 
from  the  surf — and  stood  outside  the  low  doorway 

51 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

with  a  lantern.     Its  light  streamed  over  the  sand 
and  made  wavering  patterns  about  the  mare's  feet. 

"  Thought  ye'd  never  come,  Doc,"  he  whispered, 
as  he  threw  the  blanket  over  the  mare.  "  Wife's  nigh 
crazy.  Tod's  fightin'  for  all  he's  worth,  but  there 
ain't  much  breath  left  in  him.  I  was  off  the  inlet 
when  it  come  on." 

The  wife,  a  thick-set  woman  in  a  close-fitting  cap, 
her  arms  bared  to  the  elbow,  her  petticoats  above  the 
tops  of  her  shoes,  met  him  inside  the  door.  She  had 
been  crying  and  her  eyelids  were  still  wet  and  her 
cheeks  swollen.  The  light  of  the  ship's  lantern  fast 
ened  to  the  wall  fell  upon  a  crib  in  the  corner,  on 
which  lay  the  child,  his  short  curls,  tangled  with 
much  tossing,  smoothed  back  from  his  face.  The 
doctor's  ears  had  caught  the  sound  of  the  child's 
breathing  before  he  entered  the  room. 

"  When  did  this  come  on  ?  "  Doctor  John  asked, 
settling  down  beside  the  crib  upon  a  stool  that  the 
wife  had  brushed  off  with  her  apron. 

"  'Bout  sundown,  sir,"  she  answered,  her  tear- 
soaked  eyes  fixed  on  little  Tod's  face.  Her  teeth 
chattered  as  she  spoke  and  her  arms  were  tight 
pressed  against  her  sides,  her  fingers  opening  and 
shutting  in  her  agony.  Now  and  then  in  her  nervous 
ness  she  would  wipe  her  forehead  with  the  back  of 
her  wrist  as  if  it  were  wet,  or  press  her  two  fingers 
deep  into  her  swollen  cheek. 

52 


LITTLE    TOD   FOGAKTY 

Fogarty  had  followed  close  behind  the  doctor  and 
now  stood  looking  down  at  the  crib  with  fixed  eyes, 
his  thin  lips  close  shut,  his  square  jaw  sunk  in  the 
collar  of  his  shirt.  There  were  no  dangers  that  the 
sea  could  unfold  which  this  silent  surfman  had  not 
met  and  conquered,  and  would  again.  Every  fisher 
man  on  the  coast  knew  Fogarty 's  pluck  and  skill, 
and  many  of  them  owed  their  lives  to  him.  To 
night,  before  this  invisible  power  slowly  closing 
about  his  child  he  was  as  powerless  as  a  skiff  without 
oars  caught  in  the  swirl  of  a  Barnegat  tide. 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  sooner,  Fogarty  ? 
You  understood  my  directions  ?  "  Doctor  John  asked 
in  a  surprised  tone.  "  You  shouldn't  have  left  him 
without  letting  me  know."  It  was  only  when  his 
orders  were  disobeyed  and  life  endangered  that  he 
spoke  thus. 

The  fisherman  turned  his  head  and  was  about  to 
reply  when  the  wife  stepped  in  front  of  him. 

"  My  husband  got  ketched  in  the  inlet,  sir,"  she 
said  in  an  apologetic  tone,  as  if  to  excuse  his  absence. 
"  The  tide  set  ag'in  him  and  he  had  hard  pullin' 
makin'  the  p'int.  It  cuts  in  turrible  there,  you  know, 
doctor.  Tod  seemed  to  be  all  right  when  he  left  him 
this  mornin'.  I  had  husband's  mate  take  the  note 
I  wrote  ye.  Mate  said  nobody  was  at  home  and  he 
laid  it  under  your  pipe.  He  thought  ye'd  sure  find 
it  there  when  ye  come  in." 

53 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Doctor  John  was  not  listening  to  her  explanations ; 
he  was  leaning  over  the  rude  crib,  his  ear  to  the 
child's  breast.  Kegaining  his  position,  he  smoothed 
the  curls  tenderly  from  the  forehead  of  the  little  fel 
low,  who  still  lay  with  eyes  closed,  one  stout  brown 
hand  and  arm  clear  of  the  coverlet,  and  stood  watch 
ing  his  breathing.  Every  now  and  then  a  spasm  of 
pain  would  cross  the  child's  face;  the  chubby  hand 
would  open  convulsively  and  a  muffled  cry  escape 
him.  Doctor  John  watched  his  breathing  for  some 
minutes,  laid  his  hand  again  on  the  child's  forehead, 
and  rose  from  the  stool. 

"  Start  up  that  fire,  Eogarty,"  he  said  in  a  crisp 
tone,  turning  up  his  shirt-cuffs,  slipping  off  his  even 
ing  coat,  and  handing  the  garment  to  the  wife,  who 
hung  it  mechanically  over  a  chair,  her  eyes  all  the 
time  searching  Doctor  John's  face  for  some  gleam  of 
hope. 

"  Now  get  a  pan,"  he  continued,  "  fill  it  with  water 
and  some  corn-meal,  and  get  me  some  cotton  cloth — 
half  an  apron,  piece  of  an  old  petticoat,  anything, 
but  be  quick  about  it." 

The  woman,  glad  of  something  to  do,  hastened  to 
obey.  Somehow,  the  tones  of  his  voice  had  put  new 
courage  into  her  heart.  Eogarty  threw  a  heap  of 
driftwood  on  the  smouldering  fire  and  filled  the 
kettle;  the  dry  splinters  crackled  into  a  blaze. 

The  noise  aroused  the  child. 
54 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGABTY 

The  doctor  held  up  his  finger  for  silence  and 
again  caressed  the  boy's  forehead.  Fogarty,  with  a 
fresh  look  of  alarm  in  his  face,  tiptoed  back  of  the 
crib  and  stood  behind  the  restless  sufferer.  Under 
the  doctor's  touch  the  child  once  more  became  quiet. 

"  Is  he  bad  off  ?  "  the  wife  murmured  when  the 
doctor  moved  to  the  fire  and  began  stirring  the  mush 
she  was  preparing.  "  The  other  one  went  this  way ; 
we  can't  lose  him.  You  won't  lose  him,  will  ye, 
doctor,  dear  ?  I  don't  want  to  live  if  this  one  goes. 
Please,  doctor " 

The  doctor  looked  into  the  wife's  eyes,  blurred 
with  tears,  and  laid  his  hand  tenderly  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  Keep  a  good  heart,  wife,"  he  said ;  "  we'll  pull 
him  through.  Tod  is  a  tough  little  chap  with  plenty 
of  fight  in  him  yet.  I've  seen  them  much  worse.  It 
will  soon  be  over;  don't  worry." 

Mrs.  Fogarty's  eyes  brightened  and  even  the  fisher 
man's  grim  face  relaxed.  Silent  men  in  grave  crises 
suffer  most;  the  habit  of  their  lives  precludes  the 
giving  out  of  words  that  soothe  and  heal ;  when  others 
speak  them,  they  sink  into  their  thirsty  souls  like  drops 
of  rain  after  a  long  drought.  It- was  just  such  timely 
expressions  as  these  that  helped  Doctor  John's  pa 
tients  most — often  their  only  hope  hung  on  some 
word  uttered  with  a  buoyancy  of  spirit  that  for  a 
moment  stifled  all  their  anxieties. 

55 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

The  effect  of  the  treatment  began  to  tell  upon  the 
little  sufferer — his  breathing  became  less  difficult, 
the  spasms  less  frequent.  The  doctor  whispered  the 
change  to  the  wife,  sitting  close  at  his  elbow,  his  im 
passive  face  brightening  as  he  spoke;  there  was  an 
even  chance  now  for  the  boy's  life. 

The  vigil  continued. 

No  one  moved  except  Fogarty,  who  would  now  and 
then  tiptoe  quickly  to  the  hearth,  add  a  fresh  log  to 
the  embers,  and  as  quickly  move  back  to  his  position 
behind  the  child's  crib.  The  rising  and  falling  of 
the  blaze,  keeping  rhythm,  as  it  were,  to  the  hopes 
and  fears  of  the  group,  lighted  up  in  turn  each  figure 
in  the  room.  First  the  doctor  sitting  with  hands 
resting  on  his  knees,  his  aquiline  nose  and  brow 
clearly  outlined  against  the  shadowy  background  in 
the  gold  chalk  of  the  dancing  flames,  his  black  even 
ing  clothes  in  strong  contrast  to  the  high  white  of  the 
coverlet,  framing  the  child's  face  like  a  nimbus. 
Next  the  bent  body  of  the  wife,  her  face  in  half 
tones,  her  stout  shoulders  in  high  relief,  and  behind, 
swallowed  up  in  the  gloom,  out  of  reach  of  the  fire- 
gleam,  the  straight,  motionless  form  of  the  fisher 
man,  standing  with  folded  arms,  grim  and  silent,  his 
unseen  eyes  fixed  on  his  child. 

Far  into  the  night,  and  until  the  gray  dawn 
streaked  the  sky,  this  vigil  continued;  the  doctor, 
assisted  by  Fogarty  and  the  wife,  changing  the  poul- 

56 


The  vigil  continued  far  into  the  night  and  until  the  gray  dawn  streaked  the  sky. 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGAETY 

tices,  filling  the  child's  lungs  with  hot  steam  by 
means  of  a  paper  funnel,  and  encouraging  the  mother 
by  his  talk.  At  one  time  he  would  tell  her  in  half- 
whispered  tones  of  a  child  who  had  recovered  and 
who  had  been  much  weaker  than  this  one.  Again  he 
would  turn  to  Fogarty  and  talk  of  the  sea,  of  the 
fishing  outside  the  inlet,  of  the  big  three-masted 
schooner  which  had  been  built  by  the  men  at  Tom's 
River,  of  the  new  light  they  thought  of  building  at 
Barnegat  to  take  the  place  of  the  old  one — anything 
to  divert  their  minds  and  lessen  their  anxieties,  stop 
ping  only  to  note  the  sound  of  every  cough  the  boy 
gave  or  to  change  the  treatment  as  the  little  sufferer 
struggled  on  fighting  for  his  life. 

When  the  child  dozed  no  one  moved,  no  word  was 
spoken.  Then  in  the  silence  there  would  come  to 
their  ears  above  the  labored  breathing  of  the  boy  the 
long  swinging  tick  of  the  clock,  dull  and  ominous, 
as  if  tolling  the  minutes  of  a  passing  life ;  the  cease 
less  crunch  of  the  sea,  chewing  its  cud  on  the  beach 
outside  or  the  low  moan  of  the  outer  bar  turning 
restlessly  on  its  bed  of  sand. 

Suddenly,  and  without  warning,  and  out  of  an 
apparent  sleep,  the  child  started  up  from  his  pillow 
with  staring  eyes  and  began  beating  the  air  for  breath. 

The  doctor  leaned  quickly  forward,  listened  for 
a  moment,  his  ear  to  the  boy's  chest,  and  said  in 
a  quiet,  restrained  voice: 

57 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAENEGAT 

"  Go  into  the  other  room,  Mrs.  Fogarty,  and  stay 
there  till  I  call  you."  The  woman  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  and  obeyed  mechanically.  She  was  worn  out, 
mind  and  body,  and  had  lost  her  power  of  resistance. 

As  the  door  shut  upon  her  Doctor  John  sprang 
from  the  stool,  caught  the  lamp  from  the  wall,  handed 
it  to  Fogarty,  and  picking  the  child  up  from  the 
crib,  laid  it  flat  upon  his  knees. 

He  now  slipped  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  took 
from  it  a  leather  case  filled  with  instruments. 

"  Hold  the  light,  Fogarty,"  he  said  in  a  firm, 
decided  tone,  "  and  keep  your  nerve.  I  thought  he'd 
pull  through  without  it,  but  he'll  strangle  if  I  don't." 

"  What  ye  goin'  to  do — not  cut  him  ?  "  whispered 
the  fisherman  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Yes.  It's  his  only  chance.  I've  seen  it  coming 
on  for  the  last  hour — no  nonsense  now.  Steady,  old 
fellow.  It'll  be  over  in  a  minute.  .  .  .  There,  my 
boy,  that'll  help  you.  Now,  Fogarty,  hand  me  that 
cloth.  .  .  .  All  right,  little  man;  don't  cry;  it's  all 
over.  Now  open  the  door  and  let  your  wife  in," 
and  he  laid  the  child  back  on  the  pillow. 

When  the  doctor  took  the  blanket  from  the  sorrel 
tethered  outside  Fogarty's  cabin  and  turned  his 
horse's  head  homeward  the  sails  of  the  fishing-boats 
lying  in  a  string  on  the  far  horizon  flashed  silver  in 
the  morning  sun.  His  groom  met  him  at  the  stable 

58 


LITTLE    TOD    FOGAKTY 

door,   and  without  a   word  led  the  mare   into  the 
barn. 

The  lamp  in  his  study  was  still  burning  in  yellow 
mockery  of  the  rosy  dawn.  He  laid  his  case  of 
instruments  on  the  desk,  hung  his  cloak  and  hat  to 
a  peg  in  the  closet,  and  ascended  the  staircase  on  the 
way  to  his  bedroom.  As  he  passed  his  mother's 
open  door  she  heard  his  step. 

"  Why,  it's  broad  daylight,  son/7  she  called  in  a 
voice  ending  in  a  yawn. 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  To  see  little  Tod  Fogarty,"  he  answered  simply. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  " 

"  Croup." 

"  Is  he  going  to  die  ?  " 

"  No,  not  this  time." 

"Well,  what  did  you  stay  out  all  night  for?" 
The  voice  had  now  grown  stronger,  with  a  petulant 
tone  through  it. 

"  Well,  I  could  hardly  help  it.  They  are  very 
simple  people,  and  were  so  badly  frightened  that 
they  were  helpless.  It's  the  only  child  they  have 
left  to  them — the  last  one  died  of  croup." 

"  Well,  are  you  going  to  turn  nurse  for  half  the 
paupers  in  the  county?  All  children  have  croup, 
and  they  don't  all  die !  "  The  petulant  voice  had 
now  developed  into  one  of  indignation. 

59 


THE    TIDES    OE    BARBTEGAT 

"  2^o,  mother,  but  I  couldn't  take  any  risks.  This 
little  chap  is  worth  saving.'7 

There  came  a  pause,  during  which  the  tired  man 
waited  patiently. 

"  You  were  at  the  Cobdens'  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  or  I  should  have  reached  Fogarty's  sooner." 

"  And  Miss  Jane  detained  you,  of  course." 

"  No,  mother." 

"  Good-night,  John." 

"  Say  rather  (  Good-day,'  mother,"  he  answered 
with  a  smile  and  continued  on  to  his  room. 


60 


CHAPTEK   IV 
GOSSAWAY'S  RED  CLOAK 


The  merrymakings  at  Yardley  continued  for 
weeks,  a  new  impetus  and  flavor  being  lent  them  by 
the  arrival  of  two  of  Lucy's  friends  —  her  schoolmate 
and  bosom  companion,  Maria  Collins,  of  Trenton, 
and  Maria's  devoted  admirer,  Max  Feilding,  of  Wal 
nut  Hill,  Philadelphia. 

Jane,  in  her  joy  over  Lucy's  home-coming,  and  in 
her  desire  to  meet  her  sister's  every  wish,  gladly 
welcomed  the  new  arrivals,  although  Miss  Collins, 
strange  to  say,  had  not  made  a  very  good  impression 
upon  her.  Max  she  thought  better  of.  He  was  a 
quiet,  well-bred  young  fellow  ;  older  than  either  Lucy 
or  Maria,  and  having  lived  abroad  a  year,  knew 
something  of  the  outside  world.  Moreover,  their 
families  had  always  been  intimate  in  the  old  days, 
his  ancestral  home  being  always  open  to  Jane's 
mother  when  a  girl. 

The  arrival  of  these  two  strangers  only  added  to 
the  general  gayety.  Picnics  were  planned  to  the 
woods  back  of  Warehold  to  which  the  young  people 
of  the  town  were  invited,  and  in  which  Billy  Tatham 

61 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

with  his  team  took  a  prominent  part.  Sailing  and 
fishing  parties  outside  of  Barnegat  were  gotten  up; 
dances  were  held  in  the  old  parlor,  and  even  tableaux 
were  arranged  under  Max's  artistic  guidance.  In 
one  of  these  Maria  wore  a  Spanish  costume  fashioned 
out  of  a  white  lace  shawl  belonging  to  Jane's  grand 
mother  draped  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  made 
the  more  bewitching  by  a  red  japonica  fixed  in  her 
hair,  and  Lucy  appeared  as  a  dairy-maid  decked  out 
in  one  of  Martha's  caps,  altered  to  fit  her  shapely 
head. 

The  village  itself  was  greatly  stirred. 

"  Have  you  seen  them  two  fly-up-the-creeks  ?  " 
Billy  Tatham,  the  stage-driver,  asked  of  Uncle 
Ephraim  Tipple  as  he  was  driving  him  down  to  the 
boat-landing. 

"  No,  what  do  they  look  like  ?  " 

"  The  He-one  had  on  a  two-inch  hat  with  a  green 
ribbon  and  wore  a  white  bob-tail  coat  that  'bout 
reached  to  the  top  o'  his  pants.  Looks  like  he  lived 
on  water-crackers  and  milk,  his  skin's  that  white. 
The  She-one  had  a  set  o'  hoops  on  her  big  as  a  cir 
cus  tent.  Much  as  I  could  do  to  git  her  in  the  'bus 
— as  it  was,  she  come  in  sideways.  And  her  trunk ! 
Well,  it  oughter  been  on  wrheels — one  o'  them  travel- 
lin'  houses.  I  thought  one  spell  I'd  take  the  old 
plug  out  the  shafts  and  hook  on  to  it  and  git  it  up 
that-a-way." 

62 


ANN    GOSSAWAY'S    RED    CLOAK 

"  Some  of  Lucy's  chums,  I  guess,"  chuckled  Uncle 
Ephraim.  "  Miss  Jane  told  me  they  were  coming. 
How  long  are  they  going  to  stay  ?  " 

"  Dunno.  Till  they  git  fed  up  and  fattened, 
maybe.  If  they  was  mine  I'd  have  killin'  time 
to-day." 

Ann  Gossaway  and  some  of  her  cronies  also  gave 
free  rein  to  their  tongues. 

"  Learned  them  tricks  at  a  finishin'  school,  did 
they?"  broke  out  the  dressmaker.  (Lucy  had  been 
the  only  young  woman  in  Warehold  who  had  ever 
enjoyed  that  privilege.)  "  Wearin'  each  other's  hats, 
rollin'  round  in  the  sand,  and  hollerin'  so  you  could 
hear  ?em  clear  to  the  lighthouse.  If  I  had  my  way 
I'd  finish  'em.  And  that's  where  they'll  git  if  they 
don't  mind,  and  quick,  too !  " 

The  Dellenbaughs,  Cromartins,  and  Bunsbys,  be 
ing  of  another  class,  viewed  the  young  couple's  visit 
in  a  different  light.  "  Mr.  Feilding  has  such  nice 
hands  and  wears  such  lovely  cravats,"  the  younger 
Miss  Cromartin  said,  and  "  Miss  Collins  is  too  sweet 
for  anything."  Prim  Mr.  Bunsby,  having  superior 
notions  of  life  and  deportment,  only  shook  his  head. 
He  looked  for  more  dignity,  he  said;  but  then  this 
Byronic  young  man  had  not  been  invited  to  any  of 
the  outings. 

In  all  these  merrymakings  and  outings  Lucy  was 
the  central  figure.  Her  beauty,  her  joyous  nature, 

63 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKXEGAT 

her  freedom  from  affectation  and  conventionality, 
her  love  of  the  out-of-doors,  her  pretty  clothes  and 
the  way  she  wore  them,  all  added  to  her  popularity. 
In  the  swing  and  toss  of  her  freedom,  her  true  tem 
perament  developed.  She  was  like  a  summer  rose, 
making  everything  and  everybody  glad  about  her, 
loving  the*1  air  she  breathed  as  much  for  the  color 
it  put  into  her  cheeks  as  for  the  new  bound  it  gave 
to  her  blood.  Just  as  she  loved  the  sunlight  for  its 
warmth  and  the  dip  and  swell  of  the  sea  for  its  thrill. 
So,  too,  when  the  roses  were  a  glory  of  bloom,  not 
only  would  she  revel  in  the  beauty  of  the  blossoms, 
but  intoxicated  by  their  color  and  fragrance,  would 
bury  her  face  in  the  wealth  of  their  abundance,  tak 
ing  in  great  draughts  of  their  perfume,  caressing 
them  with  her  cheeks,  drinking  in  the  honey  of  their 
petals. 

This  was  also  true  of  her  voice — a  rich,  full, 
vibrating  voice,  that  dominated  the  room  and  thrilled 
the  hearts  of  all  who  heard  her.  When  she  sang  she 
sang  as  a  bird  sings,  as  much  to  relieve  its  own  over 
charged  little  body,  full  to  bursting  with  the  music 
in  its  soul,  as  to  gladden  the  surrounding  \voods  with 
its  melody — because,  too,  she  could  not  help  it  and 
because  the  notes  lay  nearest  her  bubbling  heart  and 
could  find  their  only  outlet  through  the  lips. 

Bart  was  her  constant  companion.  Under  his  in 
structions  she  had  learned  to  hold  the  tiller  in  sail- 

64 


GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

ing  in  and  out  of  the  inlet;  to  swim  over  hand;  to 
dive  from  a  plank,  no  matter  how  high  the  jump ;  and 
to  join  in  all  his  outdoor  sports.  Lucy  had  been  his 
constant  inspiration  in  all  of  this.  She  had  sur 
veyed  the  field  that  first  night  of  their  meeting  and 
had  discovered  that  the  young  man's  personality 
offered  the  only  material  in  Warehold  available  for 
her  purpose.  With  him,  or  someone  like  him — one 
who  had  leisure  and  freedom,  one  who  was  quick 
and  strong  and  skilful  (and  Bart  was  all  of  these) — 
the  success  of  her  summer  would  be  assured.  With 
out  him  many  of  her  plans  could  not  be  carried 
out. 

And  her  victory  over  him  had  been  an  easy  one. 
Held  first  by  the  spell  of  her  beauty  and  controlled 
later  by  her  tact  and  stronger  will,  the  young  man's 
effrontery — almost  impudence  at  times — had  changed 
to  a  certain  respectful  subservience,  which  showed 
itself  in  his  constant  effort  to  please  and  amuse  her. 
When  they  were  not  sailing  they  were  back  in  the 
orchard  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  or  were  walking 
together  nobody  knew  where.  Often  Bart  would  call 
for  her  immediately  after  breakfast,  and  the  two 
would  pack  a  lunch-basket  and  be  gone  all  day,  Lucy 
arranging  the  details  of  the  outing,  and  Bart  enter 
ing  into  them  with  a  dash  and  an  eagerness  which, 
to  a  man  of  his  temperament,  cemented  the  bond 
between  them  all  the  closer.  Had  they  been  two 

65 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

fabled  denizens  of  the  wood — she  a  nymph  and  he  a 
dryad — they  could  not  have  been  more  closely  linked 
with  sky  and  earth. 

As  for  Jane,  she  watched  the  increasing  intimacy 
with  alarm.  She  had  suddenly  become  aroused  to 
the  fact  that  Lucy's  love  affair  with  Bart  was  going 
far  beyond  the  limits  of  prudence.  The  son  of  Cap 
tain  Nathaniel  Holt,  late  of  the  Black  Ball  Line 
of  packets,  would  always  be  welcome  as  a  visitor  at 
the  home,  the  captain  being  an  old  and  tried  friend 
of  her  father's;  but  neither  Bart's  education  nor 
prospects,  nor,  for  that  matter,  his  social  position — a 
point  which  usually  had  very  little  weight  with  Jane 
— could  possibly  entitle  him  to  ask  the  hand  of  the 
granddaughter  of  Archibald  Cobden  in  marriage. 
She  began  to  regret  that  she  had  thrown  them  to 
gether.  Her  own  ideas  of  reforming  him  had  never 
contemplated  any  such  intimacy  as  now  existed  be 
tween  the  young  man  and  her  sister.  The  side  of 
his  nature  which  he  had  always  shown  her  had  been 
one  of  respectful  attention  to  her  wishes ;  so  much  so 
that  she  had  been  greatly  encouraged  in  her  efforts 
to  make  something  more  of  him  than  even  his  best 
friends  predicted  could  be  done;  but  she  had  never 
for  one  instant  intended  that  her  friendly  interest 
should  go  any  further,  nor  could  she  have  conceived 
of  such  an  issue. 

And  yet  Jane  did  nothing  to  prevent  the  meetings 
66 


GOSSAWAY'S    EED    CLOAK 

and  outings  of  the  young  couple,  even  after  Maria's 
and  Max's  departure. 

When  Martha,  in  her  own  ever-increasing  anxiety, 
spoke  of  the  growing  intimacy  she  looked  grave,  but 
she  gave  no  indication  of  her  own  thoughts.  Her 
pride  prevented  her  discussing  the  situation  with 
the  old  nurse  and  her  love  for  Lucy  from  intervening 
in  her  pleasures. 

"  She  has  been  cooped  up  at  school  so  long,  Martha, 
dear,"  she  answered  in  extenuation,  "  that  I  hate  to 
interfere  in  anything  she  wants  to  do.  She  is  very 
happy;  let  her  alone.  I  wish,  though,  she  would 
return  some  of  the  calls  of  these  good  people  who 
have  been  so  kind  to  her.  Perhaps  she  will  if 
you  speak  to  her.  But  don't  worry  about  Bart; 
that  will  wear  itself  out.  All  young  girls  must 
have  their  love-affairs." 

Jane's  voice  had  lacked  the  ring  of  true  sincerity 
when  she  spoke  about  "  wearing  itself  out,"  and 
Martha  had  gone  to  her  room  more  dissatisfied  than 
before.  This  feeling  became  all  the  more  intense 
when,  the  next  day,  from  her  window  she  watched 
Bart  tying  on  Lucy's  hat,  puffing  out  the  big  bow  under 
her  chin,  smoothing  her  hair  from  the  flying  strings. 
Lucy's  eyes  were  dancing,  her  face  turned  toward 
Bart's,  her  pretty  lips  near  his  own.  There  was  a 
knot  or  a  twist,  or  a  collection  of  knots  and  twists, 
or  perhaps  Bart's  fingers  bungled,  for  minutes  passed 

67 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

before  the  hat  could  be  fastened  to  suit  either  of  them. 
Martha's  head  had  all  this  time  been  thrust  out  of 
the  casement,  her  gaze  apparently  fixed  on  a  bird 
cage  hung  from  a  hook  near  the  shutter. 

Bart  caught  her  eye  and  whispered  to  Lucy  that 
that  "  old  spy-cat"  was  watching  them;  whereupon 
Lucy  faced  about,  waved  her  hand  to  the  old  nurse, 
and  turning  quickly,  raced  up  the  orchard  and  out 
of  sight,  followed  by  Bart  carrying  a  shawl  for  them 
to  sit  upon. 

After  that  Martha,  unconsciously,  perhaps,  to  her 
self,  kept  watch,  so  far  as  she  could,  upon  their 
movements,  without,  as  she  thought,  betraying  her 
self :  making  excuses  to  go  to  the  village  when  they 
two  went  off  together  in  that  direction;  traversing 
the  orchard,  ostensibly  looking  for  Meg  when  she  knew 
all  the  time  that  the  dog  was  sound  asleep  in  the 
woodshed;  or  yielding  to  a  sudden  desire  to  give  the 
rascal  a  bath  whenever  Lucy  announced  that  she 
and  Bart  were  going  to  spend  the  morning  down  by 
the  water. 

As  the  weeks  flew  by  and  Lucy  had  shown  no  will 
ingness  to  assume  her  share  of  any  of  the  responsibil 
ities  of  the  house, — any  that  interfered  with  her  per 
sonal  enjoyment, — Jane  became  more  and  more  rest 
less  and  unhappy.  The  older  village  people  had 
shown  her  sister  every  attention,  she  said  to  herself, — 
more  than  was  her  due,  considering  her  youth, — and 

68 


ANN    GOSSAWAY'S    RED    CLOAK 

yet  Lucy  had  never  crossed  any  one  of  their  thresh 
olds.  She  again  pleaded  with  the  girl  to  remember 
her  social  duties  and  to  pay  some  regard  to  the  neigh 
bors  who  had  called  upon  her  and  who  had  shown  her 
so  much  kindness;  to  which  the  happy-hearted  sister 
had  laughed  back  in  reply: 

"  What  for,  you  dear  sister  ?  These  old  fossils 
don't  want  to  see  me,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  want 
to  see  them.  Some  of  them  give  me  the  shivers,  they 
are  so  prim." 

It  was  with  glad  surprise,  therefore,  that  Jane 
heard  Lucy  say  in  Martha's  hearing  one  bright 
afternoon : 

"  Now,  I'm  going  to  begin,  sister,  and  you  won't 
have  to  scold  me  any  more.  Everyone  of  these  old 
tabbies  I  will  take  in  a  row:  Mrs.  Cavendish  first, 
and  then  the  Cromartins,  and  the  balance  of  the 
bunch  when  I  can  reach  them.  I  am  going  to  Rose 
Cottage  to  see  Mrs.  Cavendish  this  very  after 
noon." 

The  selection  of  Mrs.  Cavendish  as  first  on  her 
list  only  increased  Jane's  wonder.  Rose  Cottage 
lay  some  two  miles  from  Warehold,  near  the  upper 
end  of  the  beach,  and  few  of  their  other  friends 
lived  near  it.  Then  again,  Jane  knew  that  Lucy 
had  not  liked  the  doctor's  calling  her  into  the  house 
the  night  of  her  arrival,  and  had  heretofore  made  one 
excuse  after  another  when  urged  to  call  on  his  mother. 

69 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEGAT 

Her  delight,  therefore,  over  Lucy's  sudden  sense  of 
duty  was  all  the  more  keen. 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  darling,"  she  answered,  slipping 
her  arm  about  Lucy's  waist,  "  and  we'll  take  Meg 
for  a  walk." 

So  they  started,  Lucy  in  her  prettiest  frock  and 
hat  and  Jane  with  her  big  red  cloak  over  her  arm 
to  protect  the  young  girl  from  the  breeze  from  the 
sea,  which  in  the  early  autumn  was  often  cool,  espe 
cially  if  they  should  sit  out  on  Mrs.  Cavendish's 
piazza. 

The  doctor's  mother  met  them  on  the  porch.  She 
had  seen  them  enter  the  garden  gate,  and  had  left 
her  seat  by  the  window,  and  was  standing  on  the  top 
step  to  welcome  them.  Rex,  as  usual,  in  the  doctor's 
absence,  did  the  honors  of  the  office.  He  loved  Jane, 
and  always  sprang  straight  at  her,  his  big  paws  rest 
ing  on  her  shoulders.  These  courtesies,  however,  he 
did  not  extend  to  Meg.  The  high-bred  setter  had  no 
other  salutation  for  the  clay-colored  remnant  than 
a  lifting  of  his  nose,  a  tightening  of  his  legs,  and  a 
smothered  growl  when  Meg  ventured  too  near  his 
lordship. 

"  Come  up,  my  dear,  and  let  me  look  at  you," 
were  Mrs.  Cavendish's  first  words  of  salutation  to 
Lucy.  "  I  hear  you  have  quite  turned  the  heads  of 
all  the  gallants  in  Warehold.  John  says  you  are  very 
beautiful,  and  you  know  the  doctor  is  a  good  judge, 

70 


ANN   GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

is  he  not,  Miss  Jane  ? "  she  added,  holding  out  her 
hands  to  them  both.  "  And  he's  quite  right ;  you  are 
just  like  your  dear  mother,  who  was  known  as  the 
Rose  of  Barnegat  long  before  you  were  born.  Shall 
we  sit  here,  or  will  you  come  into  my  little  salon 
for  a  cup  of  tea  ?  "  It  was  always  a  "  salon  "  to  Mrs. 
Cavendish,  never  a  "  sitting-room." 

"  Oh,  please  let  me  sit  here,"  Lucy  answered, 
checking  a  rising  smile  at  the  word,  "  the  view  is  so 
lovely,"  and  without  further  comment  or  any  refer 
ence  to  the  compliments  showered  upon  her,  she 
took  her  seat  upon  the  top  step  and  began  to  play 
with  Rex,  who  had  already  offered  to  make  friends 
with  her,  his  invariable  habit  with  well-dressed 
people. 

Jane  meanwhile  improved  the  occasion  to  ask  the 
doctor's  mother  about  the  hospital  they  were  building 
near  Barnegat,  and  whether  she  and  one  or  two  of 
the  other  ladies  at  Warehold  would  not  be  useful  as 
visitors,  and,  perhaps,  in  case  of  emergency,  as 
nurses. 

While  the  talk  was  in  progress  Lucy  sat  smoothing 
Rex's  silky  ears,  listening  to  every  word  her  hostess 
spoke,  watching  her  gestures  and  the  expressions  that 
crossed  her  face,  and  settling  in  her  mind  for  all 
time,  after  the  manner  of  young  girls,  what  sort  of 
woman  the  doctor's  mother  might  be;  any  opinions 
she  might  have  had  two  years  before  being  now  out- 

71 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARXEGAT 

lawed  by  this  advanced  young  woman  in  her  present 
mature  judgment. 

In  that  comprehensive  glance,  with  the  profound 
wisdom  of  her  seventeen  summers  to  help  her,  she 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Mrs.  Cavendish  was 
a  high-strung,  nervous,  fussy  little  woman  of  fifty, 
with  an  outward  show  of  good-will  and  an  inward 
intention  to  rip  everybody  up  the  back  who  opposed 
her ;  proud  of  her  home,  of  her  blood,  and  of  her  son, 
and  determined,  if  she  could  manage  it,  to  break  off 
his  attachment  for  Jane,  no  matter  at  what  cost. 
This  last  Lucy  caught  from  a  peculiar  look  in  the 
little  old  woman's  eyes  and  a  slightly  scornful  curve 
of  the  lower  lip  as  she  listened  to  Jane's  talk  about 
the  hospital,  all  of  which  was  lost  on  u  plain  Jane 
Cobden,''  as  the  doctor's  mother  invariably  called 
her  sister  behind  her  back. 

Then  the  young  mind-reader  turned  her  attention 
to  the  house  and  grounds  and  the  buildings  lying 
above  and  before  her,  especially  to  the  way  the 
matted  vines  hung  to  the  porches  and  clambered  over 
the  roof  and  dormers.  Later  on  she  listened  to  Mrs. 
Cavendish's  description  of  its  age  and  ancestry :  How 
it  had  come  down  to  her  from  her  grandfather,  whose 
large  estate  was  near  Trenton,  where  as  a  girl  she 
had  spent  her  life;  how  in  those  days  it  was  but  a 
small  villa  to  which  old  Xicholas  Erskine,  her  great- 
uncle,  would  bring  his  guests  when  the  August  days 

72 


GOSSAWAY'S    RED    CLOAK 

made  Trenton  unbearable;  and  how  in  later  years 
under  the  big  trees  back  of  the  house  and  over  the 
lawn — "  you  can  see  them  from  where  you  sit,  my 
dear  " — tea  had  been  served  to  twenty  or  more  of 
"  the  first  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  the  land." 

Jane  had  heard  it  all  a  dozen  times  before,  and 
so  had  every  other  visitor  at  Rose  Cottage,  but  to 
Lucy  it  was  only  confirmation  of  her  latter-day  opin 
ion  of  her  hostess.  Nothing,  however,  could  be  more 
gracious  than  the  close  attention  which  the  young 
girl  gave  Mrs.  Cavendish's  every  wTord  when  the 
talk  was  again  directed  to  her,  bending  her  pretty 
head  and  laughing  at  the  right  time — a  courtesy 
which  so  charmed  the  dear  lady  that  she  insisted  on 
giving  first  Lucy,  and  then  Jane,  a  bunch  of  roses 
from  her  "  own  favorite  bush  "  before  the  two  girls 
took  their  leave. 

With  these  evidences  of  her  delight  made  clear, 
Lucy  pushed  Rex  from  her  side — he  had  become  pre 
suming  and  had  left  the  imprint  of  his  dusty  paw 
upon  her  spotless  frock — and  with  the  remark  that 
she  had  other  visits  to  pay,  her  only  regret  being 
that  this  one  was  so  short,  she  got  up  from  her  seat 
on  the  step,  called  Meg,  and  stood  waiting  for  Jane 
with  some  slight  impatience  in  her  manner. 

Jane  immediately  rose  from  her  chair.  She  had 
been  greatly  pleased  at  the  impression  Lucy  had 
made.  Her  manner,  her  courtesy,  her  respect  for 

73 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABKEGAT 

the  older  woman,  her  humoring  her  whims,  showed 
her  to  be  the  daughter  of  a  Cobden.  As  to  her  own 
place  during  the  visit,  she  had  never  given  it  a 
thought.  She  would  always  be  willing  to  act  as 
foil  to  her  accomplished,  brilliant  sister  if  by  so 
doing  she  could  make  other  people  love  Lucy  the 
more. 

As  they  walked  through  the  doctor's  study,  Mrs. 
Cavendish  preceding  them,  Jane  lingered  for  a 
moment  and  gave  a  hurried  glance  about  her.  There 
stood  his  chair  and  his  lounge  where  he  had  thrown 
himself  so  often  when  tired  out.  There,  too,  was  the 
closet  where  he  hung  his  coat  and  hat,  and  the  desk 
covered  with  books  and  papers.  A  certain  feeling 
of  reverence  not  unmixed  with  curiosity  took  pos 
session  of  her,  as  when  one  enters  a  sanctuary  in  the 
absence  of  the  priest.  For  an  instant  she  passed  her 
hand  gently  over  the  leather  back  of  the  chair  where 
his  head  rested,  smoothing  it  with  her  fingers.  Then 
her  eyes  wandered  over  the  room,  noting  each  ap 
pointment  in  detail.  Suddenly  a  sense  of  injustice 
rose  in  her  mind  as  she  thought  that  nothing  of 
beauty  had  ever  been  added  to  these  plain  surround 
ings;  even  the  plants  in  the  boxes  by  the  windows 
looked  half  faded.  With  a  quick  glance  at  the  open 
door  she  slipped  a  rose  from  the  bunch  in  her  hand, 
leaned  over,  and  with  the  feeling  of  a  devotee  laying 
an  offering  on  the  altar,  placed  the  flower  hurriedly 

74 


ANN    GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

on  the  doctor's  slate.  Then  she  joined  Mrs.  Caven 
dish. 

Lucy  walked  slowly  from  the  gate,  her  eyes  every 
now  and  then  turned  to  the  sea.  When  she  and 
Jane  had  reached  the  cross-road  that  branched  off 
toward  the  beach — it  ran  within  sight  of  Mrs.  Caven 
dish's  windows — Lucy  said : 

"  The  afternoon  is  so  lovely  I'm  not  going  to  pay 
any  more  visits,  sister.  Suppose  I  go  to  the  beach 
and  give  Meg  a  bath.  You  won't  mind,  will  you? 
Come,  Meg!" 

"  Oh,  how  happy  you  will  make  him !  "  cried 
Jane.  "  But  you  are  not  dressed  warm  enough, 
dearie.  You  know  how  cool  it  gets  toward  evening. 
Here,  take  my  cloak.  Perhaps  I'd  better  go  with 
you " 

"  No,  do  you  keep  on  home.  I  want  to  see  if  the 
little  wretch  will  be  contented  with  me  alone.  Good- 
by,"  and  without  giving  her  sister  time  to  protest, 
she  called  to  Meg,  and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand,  the 
red  cloak  flying  from  her  shoulders,  ran  toward  the 
beach,  Meg  bounding  after  her. 

Jane  waved  back  in  answer,  and  kept  her  eyes 
on  the  graceful  figure  skipping  along  the  road,  her 
head  and  shoulders  in  silhouette  against  the  blue 
sea,  her  Avhite  skirts  brushing  the  yellow  grass  of 
the  sand-dune.  All  the  mother-love  in  her  heart 
up  in  her  breast.  She  was  so  proud  of  her, 
75 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

so  much  in  love  with  her,  so  thankful  for  her !  All 
these  foolish  love  affairs  and  girl  fancies  would  soon 
be  over  and  Bart  and  the  others  like  him  out  of 
Lucy's  mind  and  heart.  Why  worry  about  it  ?  Some 
great  strong  soul  would  come  by  and  by  and  take 
this  child  in  his  arms  and  make  a  woman  of  her. 
Some  strong  soul 

She  stopped  short  in  her  walk  and  her  thoughts 
went  back  to  the  red  rose  lying  on  the  doctor's  desk. 

"Will  he  know?"  she  said  to  herself;  "  he  loves 
flowers  so,  and  I  don't  believe  anybody  ever  puts 
one  on  his  desk.  Poor  fellow!  how  hard  he  works 
and  how  good  he  is  to  everybody !  Little  Tod  would 
have  died  but  for  his  tenderness."  Then,  with  a 
prayer  in  her  heart  and  a  new  light  in  her  eyes,  she 
kept  on  her  way. 

Lucy,  as  she  bounded  along  the  edge  of  the  bluff, 
Meg  scurrying  after  her,  had  never  once  lost  sight 
of  her  sister's  slender  figure.  When  a  turn  in  the 
road  shut  her  from  view,  she  crouched  down  behind 
a  sand-dune,  waited  until  she  was  sure  Jane  would 
not  change  her  mind  and  join  her,  and  then  folding 
the  cloak  over  her  arm,  gathered  up  her  skirts  and 
ran  with  all  her  speed  along  the  wet  sand  to  the 
House  of  Refuge.  As  she  reached  its  side,  Bart 
Holt  stepped  out  into  the  afternoon  light. 

"  I  thought  you'd  never  come,  darling,"  he  said, 
catching  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 

76 


ANN   GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  sweetheart.  I  told  sister  I 
was  going  to  see  Mrs.  Cavendish,  and  she  was  so 
delighted  she  said  she  would  go,  too." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  interrupted,  turning  his  head 
and  looking  anxiously  up  the  beach. 

"  Gone  home.  Oh,  I  fixed  that.  I  was  scared  to 
death  for  a  minute,  but  you  trust  me  when  I  want 
to  get  off." 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  her  take  that  beast  of  a  dog 
with  her  ?  We  don't  want  him,"  he  rejoined,  point 
ing  to  Meg,  who  had  come  to  a  sudden  standstill 
at  the  sight  of  Bart. 

"  Why,  you  silly !  That's  how  I  got  away.  She 
thought  I  was  going  to  give  him  a  bath.  How  long 
have  you  been  waiting,  my  precious  ?  "  Her  hand 
was  on  his  shoulder  now,  her  eyes  raised  to  his. 

"  Oh,  'bout  a  year.  It  really  seems  like  a  year, 
Luce  "  (his  pet  name  for  her),  "  when  I'm  waiting 
for  you.  I  was  sure  something  was  up.  Wait  till 
I  open  the  door."  The  two  turned  toward  the  house. 

"  Why !  can  we  get  in  ?  I  thought  Fogarty,  the 
fisherman,  had  the  key,"  she  asked,  with  a  tone  of 
pleasant  surprise  in  her  voice. 

"  So  he  has,"  he  laughed.  "  Got  it  now  hanging 
up  behind  his  clock.  I  borrowed  it  yesterday  and 
had  one  made  just  like  it.  I'm  of  age."  This 
came  with  a  sly  wink,  followed  by  a  low  laugh  of 
triumph. 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Lucy  smiled.  She  liked  his  daring ;  she  liked,  too, 
his  resources.  When  a  thing  was  to  be  done,  Bart 
always  found  the  way  to  do  it.  She  waited  until 
he  had  fitted  the  new  bright  key  into  the  rusty  lock, 
her  hand  in  his. 

"  Now,  come  inside,"  he  cried,  swinging  wide  the 
big  doors.  "  Isn't  it  a  jolly  place  ?  "  He  slipped 
his  arm  about  her  and  drew  her  to  him.  "  See, 
there's  the  stove  with  the  kindling-wood  all  ready 
to  light  when  anything  comes  ashore,  and  up  on  that 
shelf  are  life-preservers ;  and  here's  a  table  and  some 
stools  and  a  lantern — two  of  'em ;  and  there's  the  big 
life-boat,  all  ready  to  push  out.  Good  place  to  come 
Sundays  with  some  of  the  fellows,  isn't  it?  Play 
all  night  here,  and  not  a  soul  would  find  you  out," 
he  chuckled  as  he  pointed  to  the  different  things. 
"  You  didn't  think,  now,  I  wTas  going  to  have  a 
cubby-hole  like  this  to  hide  you  in  where  that  old 
spot-cat  Martha  can't  be  watching  us,  did  you  ?  " 
he  added,  drawing  her  toward  him  and  again  kissing 
her  with  a  sudden  intensity. 

Lucy  slipped  from  his  arms  and  began  examining 
everything  with  the  greatest  interest.  She  had  never 
seen  anything  but  the  outside  of  the  house  before 
and  she  always  wondered  what  it  contained,  and  as 
a  child  had  stood  up  on  her  toes  and  tried  to  peep 
in  through  the  crack  of  the  big  door.  When  she 
had  looked  the  boat  all  over  and  felt  the  oars,  and 

78 


AKST   GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

wondered  whether  the  fire  could  be  lighted  quick 
enough,  and  pictured  in  her  mind  the  half -drowned 
people  huddled  around  it  in  their  sea-drenched 
clothes,  she  moved  to  the  door.  Bart  wanted  her  to 
sit  down  inside,  but  she  refused. 

"  No,  come  outside  and  lie  on  the  sand.  Nobody 
comes  along  here/'  she  insisted.  "  Oh,  see  how  beau 
tiful  the  sea  is!  I  love  that  green/7  and  drawing 
Jane's  red  cloak  around  her,  she  settled  herself  on 
the  sand,  Bart  throwing  himself  at  her  feet. 

The  sun  was  now  nearing  the  horizon,  and  its 
golden  rays  fell  across  their  faces.  Away  off  on  the 
sky-line  trailed  the  smoke  of  an  incoming  steamer; 
nearer  in  idled  a  schooner  bound  in  to  Barnegat 
Inlet  with  every  sail  set.  At  their  feet  the  surf  rose 
sleepily  under  the  gentle  pressure  of  the  incoming 
tide,  its  wavelets  spreading  themselves  in  widening 
circles  as  if  bent  on  kissing  the  feet  of  the  radiant 
girl. 

As  they  sat  and  talked,  filled  with  the  happiness 
of  being  alone,  their  eyes  now  on  the  sea  and  now 
looking  into  each  other's,  Meg,  who  had  amused  him 
self  by  barking  at  the  swooping  gulls,  chasing  the 
sand-snipe  and  digging  holes  in  the  sand  for  imag 
inary  muskrats,  lifted  his  head  and  gave  a  short 
yelp.  Bart,  annoyed  by  the  sound,  picked  up  a  bit 
of  driftwood  and  hurled  it  at  him,  missing  him  by  a 
few  inches.  The  narrowness  of  the  escape  silenced 

79 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

the  dog  and  sent  him  to  the  rear  with  drooping  tail 
and  ears. 

Bart  should  have  minded  Meg's  warning.  A  broad 
beach  in  the  full  glare  of  the  setting  sun,  even  when 
protected  by  a  House  of  Refuge,  is  a  poor  place  to 
be  alone  in. 

A  woman  was  passing  along  the  edge  of  the  bluffs, 
carrying  a  basket  in  one  hand  and  a  green  umbrella 
in  the  other;  a  tall,  thin,  angular  woman,  with  the 
eye  of  a  ferret.  It  was  Ann  Gossa way's  day  for 
visiting  the  sick,  and  she  had  just  left  Eogarty's 
cabin,  where  little  Tod,  with  his  throat  tied  up  in 
red  flannel,  had  tried  on  her  mitts  and  played  with 
her  spectacles.  Miss  Gossaway  had  heard  Meg's  bark 
and  had  been  accorded  a  full  view  of  Lucy's  back 
covered. by  Jane's  red  cloak,  with  Bart  sitting  beside 
her,  their  shoulders  touching. 

Lovers  with  their  heads  together  interested  the 
gossip  no  longer,  except  as  a  topic  to  talk  about.  Such 
trifles  had  these  many  years  passed  out  of  the  dress 
maker's  life. 

So  Miss  Gossaway,  busy  with  her  own  thoughts, 
kept  on  her  way  unnoticed  by  either  Lucy  or  Bart. 

When  she  reached  the  cross-road  she  met  Doctor 
John  driving  in.  He  tightened  the  reins  on  the 
sorrel  and  stopped. 

"  Lovely  afternoon,  Miss  Gossaway.  Where  are 
you  from — looking  at  the  sunset  ?  " 

80 


A~NN   GOSSAWAY'S    KED    CLOAK 

"  No,  I  ain't  got  no  time  for  spoonin'.  I  might 
be  if  I  was  Miss  Jane  and  Bart  Holt.  Just  see  'eni 
a  spell  ago  squattin'  down  behind  the  House  o' 
Kefuge.  She  wouldn't  look  at  me.  I  been  to 
Fogarty's ;  she's  on  my  list  this  week,  and  it's  my  day 
for  visitin',  fust  in  two  weeks.  That  two-year-old 
of  hers  is  all  right  ag'in  after  your  sewing  him  up; 
they'll  never  get  over  tellin'  how  you  set  up  all  night 
with  him.  You  ought  to  hear  Mrs.  Fogarty  go  on — 
*  Oh,  the  goodness  of  him ! '  "  and  she  mimicked  the 
good  woman's  dialect.  "  '  If  Tod  'd  been  his  own 
child  he  couldn't  a-done  more  for  him.'  That's  the 
way  she  talks.  I  heard,  doctor,  ye  never  left  him  till 
daylight.  You're  a  wronder." 

The  doctor  touched  his  hat  and  drove  on. 

Miss  Gossaway's  sharp,  rasping  voice  and  incisive 
manner  of  speaking  grated  upon  him.  He  liked 
neither  her  tone  nor  the  way  in  which  she  spoke 
of  the  mistress  of  Yardley.  No  one  else  dared  as 
much.  If  Jane  was  really  on  the  beach  and  with 
Bart,  she  had  some  good  purpose  in  her  mind.  It 
may  have  been  her  day  for  visiting,  and  Bart,  per 
haps,  had  accompanied  her.  But  why  had  Miss 
Gossaway  not  met  Miss  Cobden  at  Fogarty's,  his 
being  the  only  cabin  that  far  down  the  beach  ?  Then 
his  face  brightened.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  Lucy 
whom  she  had  seen.  He  had  placed  that  same  red 
cloak  around  her  shoulders  the  night  of  the  recep- 

81 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

tion  at  Yardley — and  when  she  was  with  Bart, 
too. 

Mrs.  Cavendish  was  sitting  by  her  window  when 
the  doctor  entered  his  own  house.  She  rose,  and  put 
ting  down  her  book,  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  You  should  have  come  earlier,  John,"  she  said 
with  a  laugh ;  "  such  a  charming  girl  and  so  pretty 
and  gracious.  Why,  I  was  quite  overcome.  She  is 
very  different  from  her  sister.  What  do  you  think 
Miss  Jane  wants  to  do  now  ?  isTurse  in  the  new 
hospital  when  it  is  built!  Pretty  position  for  a 
lady,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Any  position  she  would  fill  would  gain  by  her 
presence,"  said  the  doctor  gravely.  "  Have  they  been 
gone  long  ?  "  he  asked,  changing  the  subject.  He 
never  discussed  Jane  Cobden  with  his  mother  if  he 
could  help  it. 

"  Oh,  yes,  some  time.  Lucy  must  have  kept  on 
home,  for  I  saw  Miss  Jane  going  toward  the  beach 
alone." 

"  Are  you  sure,  mother  ? "  There  was  a  note  of 
anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  certainly.  She  had  that  red  cloak  of  hers 
with  her  and  that  miserable  little  dog;  that's  how  I 
know.  She  must  be  going  to  stay  late.  You  look 
tired,  my  son ;  have  you  had  a  hard  day  ?  "  added 
she,  kissing  him  on  the  cheek. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  I  am  a  little  tired,  but  I'll  be  all 
82 


ANN    GOSSAWAY'S    EED    CLOAK 

right.  Have  you  looked  at  the  slate  lately?  I'll 
go  myself,"  and  he  turned  and  entered  his  office. 

On  the  slate  lay  the  rose.  He  picked  it  up  and 
held  it  to  his  nose  in  a  preoccupied  way. 

"  One  of  mother's,"  he  said  listlessly,  laying  it 
back  among  his  papers.  "  She  so  seldom  does  that 
sort  of  thing.  Funny  that  she  should  have  given 
it  to  me  to-day;  and  after  Miss  Jane's  visit,  too." 
Then  he  shut  the  office  door,  threw  himself  into  his 
chair,  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He  was 
still  there  when  his  mother  called  him  to  supper. 

When  Lucy  reached  home  it  was  nearly  dark.  She 
came  alone,  leaving  Bart  at  the  entrance  to  the  vil 
lage.  At  her  suggestion  they  had  avoided  the  main 
road  and  had  crossed  the  marsh  by  the  foot-path, 
the  dog  bounding  on  ahead  and  springing  at  the 
nurse,  who  stood  in  the  gate  awaiting  Lucy's  return. 

"  Why,  he's  as  dry  as  a  bone !  "  Martha  cried, 
stroking  Meg's  rough  hair  with  her  plump  hand. 
"  He  didn't  get  much  of  a  bath,  did  he  ?  " 

"  No,  I  couldn't  get  him  into  the  water.  Every 
time  I  got  my  hand  on  him  he'd  dart  away  again." 

"  Anybody  on  the  beach,  darlin'  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul  except  Meg  and  the  sandsnipe." 


83 


CHAPTER   V 

CAPTAIN    NAT'S  DECISION 

When  Martha,  with  Meg  at  her  heels,  passed  Ann 
Gossaway's  cottage  the  next  morning  on  her  way  to 
the  post-office — her  daily  custom — the  dressmaker, 
who  was  sitting  in  the  window,  one  eye  on  her  needle 
and  the  other  on  the  street,  craned  her  head  clear  of 
the  calico  curtain  framing  the  sash  and  beckoned 
to  her. 

This  perch  of  Ann  Gossaway's  was  the  eyrie  from 
which  she  swept  the  village  street,  bordered  with  a 
double  row  of  wide-spreading  elms  and  fringed  with 
sloping  grassy  banks  spaced  at  short  intervals  by 
hitching-posts  and  horse-blocks.  Her  own  cottage 
stood  somewhat  nearer  the  flagged  street  path  than 
the  others,  and  as  the  garden  fences  were  low  and 
her  lookout  flanked  by  two  windows,  one  on  each 
end  of  her  corner,  she  could  not  only  note  what  went 
on  about  the  fronts  of  her  neighbors'  houses,  but 
much  of  what  took  place  in  their  back  yards.  From 
this  angle,  too,  she  could  see  quite  easily,  and  without 
more  than  twisting  her  attenuated  neck,  the  whole 
village  street  from  the  Cromartins'  gate  to  the  spire 

84 


CAPTAIN    NAT'S    DECISION 

of  the  village  church,  as  well  as  everything  that 
passed  up  and  down  the  shadow-flecked  road:  which 
child,  for  instance,  was  late  for  school,  and  how 
often,  and  what  it  wore  and  whether  its  clothes 
were  new  or  inherited  from  an  elder  sister;  who 
came  to  the  Bronsons'  next  door,  and  how  long  they 
stayed,  and  whether  they  brought  anything  with 
them  or  carried  anything  away;  the  peddler  with 
his  pack;  the  gunner  on  his  way  to  the  marshes,  his 
two  dogs  following  at  his  heels  in  a  leash ;  Dr.  John 
Cavendish's  gig,  and  whether  it  was  about  to  stop 
at  Uncle  Ephraim  Tipple's  or  keep  on,  as  usual, 
and  whirl  into  the  open  gate  of  Cobden  Manor ;  Billy 
Tatham's  passenger  list,  as  the  ricketty  stage  passed 
with  the  side  curtains  up,  and  the  number  of  trunks 
and  bags,  and  the  size  of  them,  all  indicative  of 
where  they  were  bound  and  for  how  long;  details 
of  village  life — no  one  of  which  concerned  her  in  the 
least — being  matters  of  profound  interest  to  Miss 
Gossaway. 

These  several  discoveries  she  shared  daily  with 
a  faded  old  mother  who  sat  huddled  up  in  a  rocking- 
chair  by  the  stove,  winter  and  summer,  whether  it 
had  any  fire  in  it  or  not. 

Uncle  Ephraim  Tipple,  in  his  outspoken  way, 
always  referred  to  these  two  gossips  as  the  "  spiders." 
"  When  the  thin  one  has  sucked  the  life  out  of  you," 
he  would  say  with  a  laugh,  "  she  passes  you  on  to  her 

85 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAK2sTEGAT 

old  mother,  who  sits  doubled  up  inside  the  web, 
and  when  she  gets  done  munching  there  isn't  any 
thing  left  but  your  hide  and  bones." 

It  was  but  one  of  Uncle  Ephraim's  jokes.  The 
mother  was  only  a  forlorn,  half-alive  old  woman 
who  dozed  in  her  chair  by  the  hour — the  relict  of  a 
fisherman  who  had  gone  to  sea  in  his  yawl  some 
twenty  years  before  and  who  had  never  come  back. 
The  daughter,  with  the  courage  of  youth,  had  then 
stepped  into  the  gap  and  had  alone  made  the 
fight  for  bread.  Gradually,  as  the  years  went 
by  the  roses  in  her  cheeks — never  too  fresh  at  any 
time — had  begun  to  fade,  her  face  and  figure  to 
shrink,  and  her  brow  to  tighten.  At  last,  embittered 
by  her  responsibilities  and  disappointments,  she  had 
lost  faith  in  human  kind  and  had  become  a  shrew. 
Since  then  her  tongue  had  swept  on  as  relentlessly 
as  a  scythe,  sparing  neither  flower  nor  noxious  wreed, 
a  movement  which  it  was  wise,  sometimes,  to  check. 

When,  therefore,  Martha,  with  Meg  now  bounding 
before  her,  caught  sight  of  Ann  Gossaway's  beckon 
ing  hand  thrust  out  of  the  low  window  of  her  cottage 
—the  spider-web  referred  to  by  Uncle  Ephraim — she 
halted  in  her  walk,  lingered  a  moment  as  if  unde 
cided,  expressed  her  opinion  of  the  dressmaker  to 
Meg  in  an  undertone,  and  swinging  open  the  gate 
with  its  ball  and  chain,  made  her  way  over  the  grass- 
plot  and  stood  outside  the  window,  level  with  the  sill. 

86 


CAPTAIN    NAT'S    DECISION 

"  Well,  it  ain't  none  of  my  business,  of  course, 
Martha  Sands,"  Miss  Gossaway  began,  "  and  that's 
just  what  I  said  to  mother  when  I  come  home,  but 
if  I  was  some  folks  I'd  see  my  company  in  my  parlor, 
long  as  I  had  one,  'stead  of  hidin'  down  behind  the 
House  o'  Refuge.  I  said  to  mother  soon's  I  got  in, 
<  I'm  goin'  to  tell  Martha  Sands  fust  minute  I  see 
her.  She  ain't  got  no  idee  how  them  girls  of  hers 
is  carryin'  on  or  she'd  stop  it.'  That's  what  I  said, 
didn't  I,  mother  ?  " 

Martha  caught  an  inarticulate  sound  escaping  from 
a  figure  muffled  in  a  blanket  shawl,  but  nothing  else 
followed. 

"  I  thought  fust  it  was  you  when  I  heard  that 
draggle-tail  dog  of  yours  barkin',  but  it  was  only 
Miss  Jane  and  Bart  Holt." 

"  Down  on  the  beach !  When  ?  "  asked  Martha. 
She  had  not  understood  a  word  of  Miss  Gossaway's 
outburst. 

"  Why,  yesterday  afternoon,  of  course — didn't  I 
tell  ye  so?  I'd  been  down  to  Fogarty's;  it's  my 
week.  Miss  Jane  and  Bart  didn't  see  me — didn't 
want  to.  Might  a'  been  a  pair  of  scissors,  they  was 
that  close  together." 

"  Miss  Jane  warn't  on  the  beach  yesterday  after 
noon,"  said  Martha  in  a  positive  tone,  still  in  the 
dark. 

"  She  warn't,  warn't  she  ?  Well,  I  guess  I  know 
87 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Miss  Jane  Cobden.  She  and  Bart  was  hunched 
up  that  close  you  couldn't  get  a  bodkin  'tween  'em. 
She  had  that  red  cloak  around  her  and  the  hood  up 
over  her  head.  Not  know  her,  and  she  within  ten 
feet  o'  me?  Well,  I  guess  I  got  my  eyes  left, 
ain't  I  ? " 

Martha  stood  stunned.  She  knew  now  who  it  was. 
She  had  taken  the  red  cloak  from  Lucy's  shoulders 
the  evening  before.  Then  a  cold  chill  crept  over  her 
as  she  remembered  the  lie  Lucy  had  told — "  not  a 
soul  on  the  beach  but  Meg  and  the  sandsnipe."  For 
an  instant  she  stood  without  answering.  But  for 
the  window-sill  on  which  her  hand  rested  she  would 
have  betrayed  her  emotion  in  the  swaying  of  her 
body.  She  tried  to  collect  her  thoughts.  To  deny 
Jane's  identity  too  positively  would  only  make  the 
situation  worse.  If  either  one  of  the  sisters  were  to  be 
criticised  Jane  could  stand  it  best. 

"  You  got  sharp  eyes  and  ears,  Ann  Gossaway, 
nobody  will  deny  you  them,  but  still  I  don't  think 
Miss  Jane  was  on  the  beach  yesterday." 

"  Don't  think,  don't  you  ?  Maybe  you  think  I 
can't  tell  a  cloak  from  a  bed  blanket,  never  havin' 
made  one,  and  maybe  ye  think  I  don't  know  my 
own  clo'es  when  I  see  'em  on  folks.  I  made  that  red 
cloak  for  Miss  Jane  two  years  ago,  and  I  know  every 
stitch  in  it.  Don't  you  try  and  teach  Ann  Gossaway 
how  to  cut  and  baste  or  you'll  git  worsted,"  and  the 

88 


CAPTAIN    NAT'S    DECISION 

gossip   looked   over   her   spectacles    at   Martha   and 
shook  her  side-curls  in  a  threatening  way. 

Miss  Gossaway  had  no  love  for  the  old  nurse.  There 
had  been  a  time  when  Martha  "  weren't  no  better'n 
she  oughter  be,  so  everybody  said,"  when  she  came 
to  the  village,  and  the  dressmaker  never  let  a  chance 
slip  to  humiliate  the  old  woman.  Martha's  open 
denunciation  of  the  dressmaker's  vinegar  tongue  had 
only  increased  the  outspoken  dislike  each  had  for  the 
other.  She  saw  now,  to  her  delight,  that  the  incident 
which  had  seemed  to  be  only  a  bit  of  flotsam  that 
had  drifted  to  her  shore  and  which  but  from  Mar 
tha's  manner  wyould  have  been  forgotten  by  her  the 
next  day,  might  be  a  fragment  detached  from  some 
floating  family  wreck.  Before  she  could  press  the 
matter  to  an  explanation  Martha  turned  abruptly 
on  her  heel,  called  Meg,  and  with  the  single  remark, 
"  Well,  I  guess  Miss  Jane's  of  age,"  walked  quickly 
across  the  grass-plot  and  out  of  the  gate,  the  ball  and 
chain  closing  it  behind  her  with  a  clang. 

Once  on  the  street  Martha  paused  with  her  brain 
on  fire.  The  lie  which  Lucy  had  told  frightened  her. 
She  knew  why  she  had  told  it,  and  she  knew,  too, 
what  harm  would  come  to  her  bairn  if  that  kind  of 
gossip  got  abroad  in  the  village.  She  was  no  longer 
the  gentle,  loving  nurse  with  the  soft  caressing  hand, 
but  a  woman  of  purpose.  The  sudden  terror  aroused 
in  her  heart  had  the  effect  of  tightening  her  grip 

89 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARJSTEGAT 

and  bracing  her  shoulders  as  if  the  better  to  with 
stand  some  expected  shock. 

She  forgot  Meg;  forgot  her  errand  to  the  post- 
office;  forgot  everything,  in  fact,  except  the  safety 
of  the  child  she  loved.  That  Lucy  had  neglected  and 
even  avoided  her  of  late,  keeping  out  of  her  way 
even  when  she  was  in  the  house,  and  that  she  had 
received  only  cool  indifference  in  place  of  loyal  love, 
had  greatly  grieved  her,  but  it  had  not  lessened  the 
idolatry  with  which  she  worshipped  her  bairn. 
Hours  at  a  time  she  had  spent  puzzling  her  brain 
trying  to  account  for  the  change  which  had  come  over 
the  girl  during  two  short  years  of  school.  She  had 
until  now  laid  this  change  to  her  youth,  her  love 
of  admiration,  and  had  forgiven  it.  Now  she  under 
stood  it;  it  was  that  boy  Bart.  He  had  a  way  with 
him.  He  had  even  ingratiated  himself  into  Miss 
Jane's  confidence.  And  now  this  young  girl  had 
fallen  a  victim  to  his  wiles.  That  Lucy  should  lie 
to  her,  of  all  persons,  and  in  so  calm  and  self- 
possessed  a  manner;  and  about  Bart,  of  all  men — 
sent  a  shudder  through  her  heart,  that  paled  her 
cheek  and  tightened  her  lips.  Once  before  she  had 
consulted  Jane  and  had  been  rebuffed.  Now  she 
would  depend  upon  herself. 

Retracing  her  steps  and  turning  sharply  to  the 
right,  she  ordered  Meg  home  in  a  firm  voice,  watched 
the  dog  slink  off  and  then  walked  straight  down  a 

90 


CAPTAIN    NAT'S    DECISION 

side  road  to  Captain  Nat  Holt's  house.  That  the 
captain  occupied  a  different  station  in  life  from  her 
self  did  not  deter  her.  She  felt  at  the  moment  that 
the  honor  of  the  Cobden  name  lay  in  her  keeping. 
The  family  had  stood  by  her  in  her  trouble;  now 
she  would  stand  by  them. 

The  captain  sat  on  his  front  porch  reading  a  news 
paper.  He  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  bareheaded, 
his  straight  hair  standing  straight  out  like  the  bris 
tles  of  a  shoe-brush.  Since  the  death  of  his  wife 
a  few  years  before  he  had  left  the  service,  and  now 
spent  most  of  his  days  at  home,  tending  his  garden 
and  enjoying  his  savings.  He  was  a  man  of  positive 
character  and  generally  had  his  own  way  in  every 
thing.  It  was  therefore  with  some  astonishment  that 
he  heard  Martha  say  when  she  had  mounted  the 
porch  steps  and  pushed  open  the  front  door,  her 
breath  almost  gone  in  her  hurried  walk,  "  Come 
inside." 

Captain  Holt  threw  down  his  paper  and  rising 
hurriedly  from  his  chair,  followed  her  into  the  sit 
ting-room.  The  manner  of  the  nurse  surprised  him. 
He  had  known  her  for  years,  ever  since  his  old 
friend,  Lucy's  father,  had  died,  and  the  tones  of  her 
voice,  so  different  from  her  usual  deferential  air, 
filled  him  with  apprehension. 

"  Ain't  nobody  sick,  is  there,  Martha  ?  " 

"  No,  but  there  will  be.     Are  ye  alone  ?  " 
91 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  shut  that  door  behind  ye  and  sit  down, 
I've  got  something  to  say." 

The  grizzled,  weather-beaten  man  who  had  made 
twenty  voyages  around  Cape  Horn,  and  who  was 
known  as  a  man  of  few  words,  and  those  always  of 
command,  closed  the  door  upon  them,  drew  down  the 
shade  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  room  and  faced  her. 
He  saw  now  that  something  of  more  than  usual 
importance  absorbed  her. 

"  !N"ow,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  His  manner  had 
by  this  time  regained  something  of  the  dictatorial 
tone  he  always  showed  those  beneath  him  in  au 
thority. 

"  It's  about  Bart.  You've  got  to  send  him  away." 
She  had  not  moved  from  her  position  in  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

The  captain  changed  color  and  his  voice  lost  its 
sharpness. 

"  Bart !     What's  he  done  now  ?  " 

"  He  sneaks  off  with  our  Lucy  every  chance  he 
gets.  They  were  on  the  beach  yesterday  hidin'  be 
hind  the  House  o'  Refuge  with  their  heads  together. 
She  had  on  Miss  Jane's  red  cloak,  and  Ann  Gossa- 
way  thought  it  was  Miss  Jane,  and  I  let  it  go  at 
that." 

The  captain  looked  at  Martha  incredulously  for  a 
moment,  and  then  broke  into  a  loud  laugh  as  the 

92 


CAPTAIN    NATS    DECISION 

absurdity  of  the  whole  thing  burst  upon  him.  Then 
dropping  back  a  step,  he  stood  leaning  against  the 
old-fashioned  sideboard,  his  elbows  behind  him,  his 
large  frame  thrust  toward  her. 

"  Well,  what  if  they  were — ain't  she  pretty 
enough  ? "  he  burst  out.  "  I  told  her  she'd  have 
'em  all  crazy,  and  I  hear  Bart  ain't  done  nothin' 
but  follow  in  her  wake  since  he  seen  her  launched." 

Martha  stepped  closer  to  the  captain  and  held  her 
fist  in  his  face. 

"  He's  got  to  stop  it.  Do  ye  hear  me  ? "  she 
shouted.  "If  he  don't  there'll  be  trouble,  for  you 
and  him  and  everybody.  It's  me  that's  crazy,  not 
him." 

"  Stop  it !  "  roared  the  captain,  straightening  up, 
the  glasses  on  the  sideboard  ringing  with  his  sudden 
lurch.  "  My  boy  keep  away  from  the  daughter  of 
Morton  Cobden,  who  was  the  best  friend  I  ever  had 
and  to  whom  I  owe  more  than  any  man  who  ever 
lived!  And  this  is  what  you  traipsed  up  here  to 
tell  me,  is  it,  you  mollycoddle  ?  " 

Again  Martha  edged  nearer;  her  body  bent  for 
ward,  her  eyes  searching  his — so  close  that  she  could 
have  touched  his  face  with  her  knuckles. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  and  stop  talkin'  foolishness," 
she  blazed  out,  the  courage  of  a  tigress  fighting  for 
her  young  in  her  eyes,  the  same  bold  ring  in  her 
voice.  "  I  tell  ye,  Captain  Holt,  it's  got  to  stop  short 

93 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

off,  and  NOW !  I  know  men ;  have  known  'em  to  my 
misery.  I  know  when  they're  honest  and  I  know 
when  they  ain't,  and  so  do  yon,  if  you  would  open 
your  eyes.  Bart  don't  mean  no  good  to  my  bairn. 
I  see  it  in  his  face.  I  see  it  in  the  way  he  touches 
her  hand  and  ties  on  her  bonnet.  I've  watched  him 
ever  since  the  first  night  he  laid  eyes  on  her.  He 
ain't  a  man  with  a  heart  in  him ;  he's  a  sneak  with  a 
lie  in  his  mouth.  Why  don't  he  come  round  like  any 
of  the  others  and  say  where  he's  goin'  and  what  he 
wants  to  do  instead  of  peepin'  round  the  gate-posts 
watchin'  for  her  and  sendin'  her  notes  on  the  sly, 
and  makin7  her  lie  to  me,  her  old  nurse,  who's  done 
nothin'  but  love  her  ?  Doctor  John  don't  treat  Miss 
Jane  so — he  loves  her  like  a  man  ought  to  love  a 
woman  and  he  ain't  got  nothin'  to  hide — and  you 
didn't  treat  your  wife  so.  There's  something  here 
that  tells  me  " — and  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  bosom 
— "  tells  me  more'n  I  dare  tell  ye.  I  warn  ye  now 
ag'in.  Send  him  to  sea — anywhere,  before  it  is  too 
late.  She  ain't  got  no  mother ;  she  won't' mind  a  word 
I  say ;  Miss  Jane  is  blind  as  a  bat ;  out  with  him  and 
now!9' 

The  captain  straightened  himself  up,  and  with  his 
clenched  fist  raised  above  his  head  like  a  hammer 
about  to  strike,  cried: 

"  If  he  harmed  the  daughter  of  Morton  Cobden 
Pd  kill  him!"  The  words  jumped  hot  from  his 

94 


CAPTAIN    NAT'S    DECISION 

throat   with   a    slight   hissing   sound,   his   eyes   still 
aflame. 

"  Well,  then,  stop  it  before  it  gets  too  late.  I 
walk  the  floor  nights  and  I'm  scared  to  death  every 
hour  I  live."  Then  her  voice  broke.  "  Please, 
captain,  please,"  she  added  in  a  piteous  tone.  "  Don't 
mind  me  if  I  talk  wild,  my  heart  is  breakin',  and 
I  can't  hold  in  no  longer,"  and  she  burst  into  a  parox 
ysm  of  tears. 

The  captain  leaned  against  the  sideboard  again 
and  looked  down  upon  the  floor  as  if  in  deep  thought. 
Martha's  tears  did  not  move  him.  The  tears  of  few 
women  did.  He  was  only  concerned  in  getting  hold 
of  some  positive  facts  upon  which  he  could  base  his 
judgment. 

"  Come,  now,"  he  said  in  an  authoritative  voice, 
"  let  me  get  that  chair  and  set  down  and  then  I?ll 
see  what  all  this  amounts  to.  Sounds  like  a  yarn  of 
a  horse-marine."  As  he  spoke  he  crossed  the  room 
and,  dragging  a  rocking-chair  from  its  place  beside 
the  wall,  settled  himself  in  it.  Martha  found  a  seat 
upon  the  sofa  and  turned  her  tear-stained  face  tow 
ard  him. 

"  Now,  what's  these  young  people  been  doin'  that 
makes  ye  so  almighty  narvous  ?  "  he  continued,  ly 
ing  back  in  his  chair  and  looking  at  her  from  under 
his  bushy  eyebrows,  his  fingers  supporting  his  fore 
head. 

95 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKXEGAT 

"  Everything.  Goes  out  sailin'  with  her  and  goes 
driftin'  past  with  his  head  in  her  lap.  Fogarty's 
man  who  brings  fish  to  the  house  told  me/7  She 
had  regained  something  of  her  old  composure  now. 

"  Anything  else  ?  "  The  captain's  voice  had  a 
relieved,  almost  condescending  tone  in  it.  He  had 
taken  his  thumb  and  forefinger  from  his  eyebrow 
now  and  sat  drumming  with  his  stiffened  knuckles  on 
the  arm  of  the  rocker. 

"  Yes,  a  heap  more — ain't  that  enough  along  with 
the  other  things  I've  told  ye  ?  "  Martha's  eyes  were 
beginning  to  blaze  again. 

"  No,  that's  just  as  it  ought  to  be.  Boys  and  girls 
will  be  boys  and  girls  the  world  over."  The  tone 
of  the  captain's  voice  indicated  the  condition  of  his 
mind.  He  had  at  last  arrived  at  a  conclusion.  Mar 
tha's  head  was  muddled  because  of  her  inordinate 
and  unnatural  love  for  the  child  she  had  nursed. 
She  had  found  a  spookship  in  a  fog  bank,  that  was 
all.  Jealousy  might  be  at  the  bottom  of  it  or  a  cer 
tain  nervous  fussiness.  Whatever  it  was  it  was  too 
trivial  for  him  to  waste  his  time  over. 

The  captain  rose  from  his  chair,  crossed  the  sit 
ting-room,  and  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  porch, 
letting  in  the  sunshine.  Martha  followed  close  at 
his  heels. 

"  You're  runnin'  on  a  wrong  tack,  old  woman, 
and  first  thing  ye  know  ye'll  be  in  the  breakers,"  he 


CAPTAIN   NATS   DECISION 

said,  with  his  hand  on  the  knob.  "  Ease  off  a  little 
and  don't  be  too  hard  on  'em.  They'll  make  harbor 
all  right.  You're  makin'  more  fuss  than  a  hen  over 
one  chicken.  Miss  Jane  knows  what  she's  about. 
She's  got  a  level  head,  and  when  she  tells  me  that 
my  Bart  ain't  good  enough  to  ship  alongside  the 
daughter  of  Morton  Cobden,  I'll  sign  papers  for 
him  somewhere  else,  and  not  before.  I'll  have  to 
get  you  to  excuse  me  now;  I'm  busy.  Good-day," 
and  picking  up  his  paper,  he  re-entered  the  house 
and  closed  the  door  upon  her. 


9T 


CHAPTER   VI 

A    GAME    OF    CARDS 

Should  Miss  Gossaway  have  been  sitting  at  her 
lookout  some  weeks  after  Martha's  interview  with 
Captain  Nat  Holt,  and  should  she  have  watched  the 
movements  of  Doctor  John's  gig  as  it  rounded  into 
the  open  gate  of  Cobden  Manor,  she  must  have 
decided  that  something  out  of  the  common  was  either 
happening  or  about  to  happen  inside  Yardley's  hospi 
table  doors.  Not  only  was  the  sorrel  trotting  at  her 
best,  the  doctor  flapping  the  lines  along  her  brown 
back,  his  body  swaying  from  side  to  side  with  the 
motion  of  the  light  vehicle,  but  as  he  passed  her  house 
he  was  also  consulting  the  contents  of  a  small  en 
velope  which  he  had  taken  from  his  pocket. 

"  Please  come  early,"  it  read.  "  I  have  something 
important  to  talk  over  with  you." 

A  note  of  this  character  signed  with  so  adorable  a 
name  as  "  Jane  Cobden  "  was  so  rare  in  the  doctor's 
experience  that  he  had  at  once  given  up  his  round 
of  morning  visits  and,  springing  into  his  waiting  gig, 
had  started  to  answer  it  in  person. 

98 


A    GAME    OF    CAKDS 

He  was  alive  with  expectancy.  What  could  she 
want  with  him  except  to  talk  over  some  subject  that 
they  had  left  unfinished?  As  he  hurried  on  there 
came  into  his  mind  half  a  dozen  matters,  any  one 
of  which  it  would  have  been  a  delight  to  revive.  He 
knew  from  the  way  she  worded  the  note  that  nothing 
had  occurred  since  he  had  seen  her — within  the  week, 
in  fact — to  cause  her  either  annoyance  or  suffering. 
~No ;  it  was  only  to  continue  one  of  their  confidential 
talks,  which  were  the  joy  of  his  life. 

Jane  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  morning-room. 
Her  face  lighted  up  as  he  entered  and  took  her 
hand,  and  immediately  relaxed  again  into  an  expres 
sion  of  anxiety. 

All  his  eagerness  vanished.  He  saw  with  a  sink 
ing  of  the  heart,  even  before  she  had  time  to  speak, 
that  something  outside  of  his  own  affairs,  or  hers, 
had  caused  her  to  write  the  note. 

"  I  came  at  once,"  he  said,  keeping  her  hand  in 
his.  "  You  look  troubled ;  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing  yet/'  she  answered,  leading  him  to  the 
sofa.  "It  is  about  Lucy.  She  wants  to  go  away  for 
the  winter." 

"  Where  to  ?  "  he  asked.  He  had  placed  a  cushion 
at  her  back  and  had  settled  himself  beside  her. 

"  To  Trenton,  to  visit  her  friend  Miss  Collins 
and  study  music.  She  says  Warehold  bores  her." 

"  And  you  don't  want  her  to  go  ?  " 
99 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  No ;  I  don't  fancy  Miss  Collins,  and  I  am  afraid 
she  has  too  strong  an  influence  over  Lucy.  Her  per 
sonality  grates  on  me;  she  is  so  boisterous,  and  she 
laughs  so  loud;  and  the  views  she  holds  are  unac 
countable  to  me  in  so  young  a  girl.  She  seems  to 
have  had  no  home  training  whatever.  Why  Lucy 
likes  her,  and  why  she  should  have  selected  her  as 
an  intimate  friend,  has  always  puzzled  me."  She 
spoke  with  her  usual  frankness  and  with  that  direct 
ness  which  always  characterized  her  in  matters  of 
this  kind.  "  I  had  no  one  else  to  talk  to  and  am 
very  miserable  about  it  all.  You  don't  mind  my 
sending  for  you,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Mind !  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  I  am 
never  so  happy  as  when  I  am  serving  you." 

That  she  should  send  for  him  at  all  was  happi 
ness.  Not  sickness  this  time,  nor  some  question  of 
investment,  nor  the  repair  of  the  barn  or  gate  or  out 
buildings — but  Lucy,  who  lay  nearest  her  heart! 
That  was  even  better  than  he  had  expected. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  so  I  can  get  it  right,"  he 
continued  in  a  straightforward  tone — the  tone  of  the 
physician,  not  the  lover.  She  had  relied  on  him, 
and  he  intended  to  give  her  the  best  counsel  of  which 
he  was  capable.  The  lover  could  wait. 

"  Well,  she  received  a  letter  a  week  ago  from  Miss 
Collins,  saying  she  had  come  to  Trenton  for  the 
winter  and  had  taken  some  rooms  in  a  house  belong- 

100 


A    GAME    OF    CARDS : 

ing  to  her  aunt,  who  would  live  with  her.  She 
wants  to  be  within  reach  of  the  same  music-teacher 
who  taught  the  girls  at  Miss  Parkham's  school.  She 
says  if  Lucy  will  come  it  will  reduce  the  expenses 
and  they  can  both  have  the  benefit  of  the  tuition.  At 
first  Lucy  did  not  want  to  go  at  all,  now  she  insists, 
and,  strange  to  say,  Martha  encourages  her." 

"  Martha  wants  her  to  leave  ? "  he  asked  in  sur 
prise. 

"  She  says  so." 

The  doctor's  face  assumed  a  puzzled  expression. 
He  could  account  for  Lucy's  wanting  the  freedom 
and  novelty  of  the  change,  but  that  Martha  should  be 
willing  to  part  with  her  bairn  for  the  winter  mystified 
him.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  flirtation,  of  course, 
and  its  effect  on  the  old  nurse,  and  could  not,  there 
fore,  understand  Martha's  delight  in  Lucy's  and 
Bart's  separation. 

"  You  will  be  very  lonely,"  he  said,  and  a  certain 
tender  tone  developed  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes,  dreadfully  so,  but  I  would  not  mind  if  I 
thought  it  was  for  her  good.  But  I  don't  think  so. 
I  may  be  wrong,  and  in  the  uncertainty  I  wanted  to 
talk  it  over  with  you.  I  get  so  desolate  sometimes. 
I  never  seemed  to  miss  my  father  so  much  as  now. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  Lucy's  babyhood  and  childhood 
are  over  and  she  is  entering  upon  womanhood  with 
all  the  dangers  it  brings.  And  she  frightens  me  so 

101 


THE  "TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT 

sometimes/'  she  continued  after  a  slight  pause. 
"  She  is  different;  more  self-willed,  more  self- 
centred.  Besides,  her  touch  has  altered.  She  doesn't 
seem  to  love  me  as  she  did — not  in  the  same  way." 

"  But  she  could  never  do  anything  else  but  love 
you,"  he  interrupted  quickly,  speaking  for  himself 
as  well  as  Lucy,  his  voice  vibrating  under  his  emo 
tions.  It  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep  his  hands 
from  her  own ;  her  sending  for  him  alone  restrained 
him. 

"  I  know  that,  but  it  is  not  in  the  old  way.  It 
used  to  be  '  Sister,  darling,  don't  tire  yourself,'  or 
'  Sister,  dear,  let  me  go  upstairs  for  you,'  or  '  Cuddle 
close  here,  and  let  us  talk  it  all  out  together.'  There 
is  no  more  of  that.  She  goes  her  own  way,  and  when 
I  chide  her  laughs  and  leaves  me  alone  until  I  make 
some  new  advance.  Help  me,  please,  and  with  all 
the  wisdom  you  can  give  me;  I  have  no  one  else  in 
whom  I  can  trust,  no  one  who  is  big  enough  to  know 
what  should  be  done.  I  might  have  talked  to  Mr. 
Dellenbaugh  about  it,  but  he  is  away." 

"  No ;  talk  it  all  out  to  me,"  he  said  simply.  "  I 
so  want  to  help  you  "  —his  whole  heart  was  going  out 
to  her  in  her  distress. 

"  I  know  you  feel  sorry  for  me."  She  withdrew 
he*  hand  gently  so  as  not  to  hurt  him ;  she  too  did  not 
want  to  be  misunderstood — having  sent  for  him.  "  I 
know  how  sincere  your  friendship  is  for  me,  but 

102 


A    GAME    OF    CAKDS 

put  all  that  aside.  Don't  let  your  sympathy  for  me 
cloud  your  judgment.  What  shall  I  do  with  Lucy? 
Answer  me  as  if  you  were  her  father  and  mine," 
and  she  looked  straight  into  his  eyes. 

The  doctor  tightened  the  muscles  of  his  throat, 
closed  his  teeth,  and  summoned  all  his  resolution. 
If  he  could  only  tell  her  what  was  in  his  heart  how 
much  easier  it  would  all  be !  For  some  moments  he 
sat  perfectly  still,  then  he  answered  slowly — as  her 
man  of  business  would  have  done: 

"  I  should  let  her  go." 

"  Why  do  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  Because  she  will  find  out  in  that  way  sooner 
than  in  any  other  how  to  appreciate  you  and  her 
home.  Living  in  two  rooms  and  studying  music 
will  not  suit  Lucy.  When  the  novelty  wears  off  she 
will  long  for  her  home,  and  when  she  comes  back  it 
will  be  with  a  better  appreciation  of  its  comforts. 
Let  her  go,  and  make  her  going  as  happy  as  you  can." 

And  so  Jane  gave  her  consent — it  is  doubtful 
whether  Lucy  would  have  waited  for  it  once  her  mind 
was  made  up — and  in  a  week  she  was  off,  Doctor 
John  taking  her  himself  as  far  as  the  Junction,  and 
seeing  her  safe  on  the  road  to  Trenton.  Martha 
was  evidently  delighted  at  the  change,  for  the  old 
nurse's  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles  that  last  morn 
ing  as  they  all  stood  out  by  the  gate  while  Billy 

103 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAftKEGAT 

Tatham  loaded  Lucy's  trunks  and  boxes.  Only 
once  did  a  frown  cross  her  face,  and  that  was  when 
Lucy  leaned  over  and  whispering  something  in  Bart's 
ear,  slipped  a  small  scrap  of  paper  between  his 
fingers.  Bart  crunched  it  tight  and  slid  his  hand 
carelessly  into  his  pocket,  but  the  gesture  did  not 
deceive  the  nurse:  it  haunted  her  for  days  there 
after. 

As  the  weeks  flewr  by  and  the  letters  from  Tren 
ton  told  of  the  happenings  in  Maria's  home,  it  became 
more  and  more  evident  to  Jane  that  the  doctor's 
advice  had  been  the  wisest  and  best.  Lucy  would 
often  devote  a  page  or  more  of  her  letters  to  recall 
ing  the  comforts  of  her  own  room  at  Yardley,  so 
different  from  what  she  was  enduring  at  Trenton, 
and  longing  for  them  to  come  again.  Parts  of  these 
letters  Jane  read  to  the  doctor,  and  all  of  them  to 
Martha,  who  received  them  with  varying  comment. 
It  became  evident,  too,  that  neither  the  excitement 
of  Bart's  letters,  nor  the  visits  of  the  occasional 
school  friends  who  called  upon  them  both,  nor  the 
pursuit  of  her  new  accomplishment,  had  satisfied  the 
girl. 

Jane  was  not  surprised,  therefore,  remembering 
the  doctor's  almost  prophetic  words,  to  learn  of  the 
arrival  of  a  letter  from  Lucy  begging  Martha  to  come 
to  her  at  once  for  a  day  or  two.  The  letter  was 
enclosed  in  one  to  Bart  and  was  handed  to  the  nurse 

104 


A   GAME   OF   CAEDS 

by  that  young  man  in  person.  As  he  did  so  he 
remarked  meaningly  that  Miss  Lucy  wanted  Mar 
tha's  visit  to  be  kept  a  secret  from  everybody  but 
Miss  Jane,  "  just  as  a  surprise,"  but  Martha  an 
swered  in  a  positive  tone  that  she  had  no  secrets 
from  those  who  had  a  right  to  know  them,  and  that 
he  could  write  Lucy  she  was  coming  next  day,  and 
that  Jane  and  everybody  else  who  might  inquire 
would  know  of  it  before  she  started. 

She  rather  liked  Bart's  receiving  the  letter.  As 
long  as  that  young  man  kept  away  from  Trenton 
and  confined  himself  to  Warehold,  where  she  could 
keep  her  eyes  on  him,  she  was  content. 

To  Jane  Martha  said :  "  Oh,  bless  the  darlin' ! 
She  can't  do  a  day  longer  without  her  Martha.  I'll 
go  in  the  mornin'.  It's  a  little  pettin'  she  wants — 
that's  all." 

So  the  old  nurse  bade  Meg  good-by,  pinned  her 
big  gray  shawl  about  her,  tied  on  her  bonnet,  took 
a  little  basket  with  some  delicacies  and  a  pot  of 
jelly,  and  like  a  true  Mother  Hubbard,  started  off, 
while  Jane,  having  persuaded  herself  that  perhaps 
"  the  surprise "  was  meant  for  her,  and  that  she 
might  be  welcoming  two  exiles  instead  of  one  the 
following  night,  began  to  put  Lucy's  room  in  order 
and  to  lay  out  the  many  pretty  things  she  loved, 
especially  the  new  dressing-gown  she  had  made  for 
her,  lined  with  blue  silk — her  favorite  color. 

105 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

All  that  day  and  evening,  and  far  into  the  next 
afternoon,  Jane  went  about  the  house  with  the  refrain 
of  an  old  song  welling  up  into  her  heart — one  that 
had  been  stifled  for  months.  The  thought  of  the 
round-about  way  in  which  Lucy  had  sent  for  Martha 
did  not  dull  its  melody.  That  ruse,  she  knew,  came 
from  the  foolish  pride  of  youth,  the  pride  that  could 
not  meet  defeat.  Underneath  it  she  detected,  with  a 
thrill,  the  love  of  home ;  this,  after  all,  was  what  her 
sister  could  not  do  without.  It  was  not  Bart  this 
time.  That  affair,  as  she  had  predicted  and  had 
repeatedly  told  Martha,  had  worn  itself  out  and  had 
been  replaced  by  her  love  of  music.  She  had  simply 
come  to  herself  once  more  and  would  again  be  her 
old-time  sister  and  her  child.  Then,  too — and  this 
sent  another  wave  of  delight  tingling  through  her — 
it  had  all  been  the  doctor's  doing!  But  for  his 
advice  she  would  never  have  let  Lucy  go. 

Half  a  dozen  times,  although  the  November  after 
noon  was  raw  and  chilly,  with  the  wind  fresh  from 
the  sea  and  the  sky  dull,  she  was  out  on  the  front  porch 
without  shawl  or  hat,  looking  down  the  path,  covered 
now  with  dead  leaves,  and  scanning  closely  every 
team  that  passed  the  gate,  only  to  return  again  to 
her  place  by  the  fire,  more  impatient  than  ever. 

Meg's  quick  ear  first  caught  the  grating  of  the 
wheels.  Jane  followed  him  with  a  cry  of  joyous  expec 
tation,  and  flew  to  the  door  to  meet  the  stage,  which 

106 


A    GAME    OF    CAEDS 

for  some  reason — why,  she  could  not  tell — had 
stopped  for  a  moment  outside  the  gate,  dropping  only 
one  passenger,  and  that  one  the  nurse. 

"  And  Lucy  did  not  come,  Martha !  "  Jane  ex 
claimed,  with  almost  a  sob  in  her  voice.  She  had 
reached  her  side  now,  followed  by  Meg,  who  was 
springing  straight  at  the  nurse  in  the  joy  of  his 
welcome. 

The  old  woman  glanced  back  at  the  stage,  as  if 
afraid  of  being  overheard,  and  muttered  under  her 
breath : 

"  No,  she  couldn't  come." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  disappointed !     Why  not  ?  " 

Martha  did  not  answer.  She  seemed  to  have  lost 
her  breath.  Jane  put  her  arm  about  her  and  led 
her  up  the  path.  Once  she  stumbled,  her  step  was 
so  unsteady,  and  she  would  have  fallen  but  for  Jane's 
assistance. 

The  two  had  now  reached  the  hand-railing  of  the 
porch.  Here  Martha's  trembling  foot  began  to  feel 
about  for  the  step.  Jane  caught  her  in  her  arms. 

"  You're  ill,  Martha !  "  she  cried  in  alarm.  "  Give 
me  the  bag.  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

Again  Martha  did  not  answer. 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is." 

"Upstairs!  Upstairs!  "  Martha  gasped  in  reply. 
u  Quick!" 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 
107 


THE   TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

"  Not  here ;  upstairs." 

They  climbed  the  staircase  together,  Jane  half 
carrying  the  fainting  woman,  her  mind  in  a  whirl. 

"  Where  were  you  taken  ill  ?  Why  did  you  try 
to  come  home?  Why  didn't  Lucy  come  with 
you?" 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  Jane's  hedroom 
now,  Martha  clinging  to  her  arm. 

Once  inside,  the  nurse  leaned  panting  against  the 
door,  put  her  hands  to  her  face  as  if  she  would 
shut  out  some  dreadful  spectre,  and  sank  slowly  to 
the  floor. 

"  It  is  not  me,"  she  moaned,  wringing  her  hands, 
"  not  me — not " 

"Who?" 

"Oh,  I  can't  say  it!" 

"Lucy?" 

"  Yes." 

"Not  ill?" 

"No;  worse!" 

"  Oh,  Martha !    Not  dead  ?  " 

"  O  God,  I  wish  she  were! " 

An  hour  passed — an  hour  of  agony,  of  humilia 
tion  and  despair. 

Again  the  door  opened  and  Jane  stepped  out — 
slowly,  as  if  in  pain,  her  lips  tight  drawn,  her  face 
ghastly  white,  the  thin  cheeks  sunken  into  deeper 

108 


It  is  not  me,"  she  moaned,  "not  me." 


A    GAME    OF    CAKDS 

hollows,  the  eyes  burning.  Only  the  mouth  pre 
served  its  lines,  but  firmer,  more  rigid,  more  severe, 
as  if  tightened  by  the  strength  of  some  great  resolve. 
In  her  hand  she  held  a  letter. 

Martha  lay  on  the  bed,  her  face  to  the  wall,  her 
head  still  in  her  palms.  She  had  ceased  sobbing 
and  was  quite  still,  as  if  exhausted. 

Jane  leaned  over  the  banisters,  called  to  one  of  the 
servants,  and  dropping  the  letter  to  the  floor  below, 
said: 

"  Take  that  to  Captain  Holt's.  When  he  comes 
bring  him  upstairs  here  into  my  sitting-room." 

Before  the  servant  could  reply  there  came  a  knock 
at  the  front  door.  Jane  knew  its  sound — it  was 
Doctor  John's.  Leaning  far  over,  grasping  the  top 
rail  of  the  banisters  to  steady  herself,  she  said  to 
the  servant  in  a  low,  restrained  voice : 

"  If  that  is  Dr.  Cavendish,  please  say  to  him  that 
Martha  is  just  home  from  Trenton,  greatly  fatigued, 
and  I  beg  him  to  excuse  me.  When  the  doctor  has 
driven  away,  you  can  take  the  letter." 

She  kept  her  grasp  on  the  hand-rail  until  she 
heard  the  tones  of  his  voice  through  the  open  hall 
door  and  caught  the  note  of  sorrow  that  tinged 
them. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry !  Poor  Martha !  "  she  heard 
him  say.  "  She  is  getting  too  old  to  go  about  alone. 
Please  tell  Miss  Jane  she  must  not  hesitate  to  send 

109 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAK^EGAT 

for  me  if  I  can  be  of  the  slightest  service.77  Then 
she  re-entered  the  room  where  Martha  lay  and  closed 
the  door. 

Another  and  louder  knock  now  broke  the  stillness 
of  the  chamber  and  checked  the  sobs  of  the  nurse; 
Captain  Holt  had  met  Jane's  servant  as  he  was  pass 
ing  the  gate.  He  stopped  for  an  instant  in  the  hall, 
slipped  off  his  coat,  and  walked  straight  upstairs, 
humming  a  tune  as  he  came.  Jane  heard  his  firm 
tread,  opened  the  door  of  their  room,  and  she  and 
Martha  crossed  the  hall  to  a  smaller  apartment 
where  Jane  always  attended  to  the  business  affairs  of 
the  house.  The  captain's  face  was  wreathed  in  a 
broad  smile  as  he  extended  his  hand  to  Jane  in 
welcome. 

"  It's  lucky  ye  caught  me;  Miss  Jane.  I  was  just 
goin'  out,  and  in  a  minute  I'd  been  gone  for  the 
night.  Hello,  Mother  Martha!  I  thought  you'd 
gone  to  Trenton." 

The  two  women  made  no  reply  to  his  cheery  salu 
tation,  except  to  motion  him  to  a  seat.  Then  Jane 
closed  the  door  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

When  the  captain  emerged  from  the  chamber  he 
stepped  out  alone.  His  color  was  gone,  his  eyes  flash 
ing,  his  jaw  tight  set.  About  his  mouth  there  hov 
ered  a  savage,  almost  brutal  look,  the  look  of  a  bull 
dog  who  bares  his  teeth  before  he  tears  and  strangles 

110 


A    GAME    OF    CAKDS 

— a  look  his  men  knew  when  someone  of  them  pur 
posely  disobeyed  his  orders.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
as  if  dazed.  All  he  remembered  clearly  was  the 
white,  drawn  face  of  a  woman  gazing  at  him  with 
staring,  tear-drenched  eyes,  the  slow  dropping  of 
words  that  blistered  as  they  fell,  and  the  figure  of 
the  nurse  wringing  her  hands  and  moaning:  "Oh, 
I  told  ye  so !  I  told  ye  so !  Why  didn't  ye  listen  ?  " 
With  it  came  the  pain  of  some  sudden  blow  that 
deadened  his  brain  and  stilled  his  heart. 

With  a  strong  effort,  like  one  throwing  off  a 
stupor,  he  raised  his  head,  braced  his  shoulders,  and 
strode  firmly  along  the  corridor  and  down  the  stairs 
on  his  way  to  the  front  door.  Catching  up  his  coat, 
he  threw  it  about  him,  pulled  his  hat  on,  with 
a  jerk,  slamming  the  front  door,  plunged  along 
through  the  dry  leaves  that  covered  the  path,  and 
so  on  out  to  the  main  road.  Once  beyond  the  gate 
he  hesitated,  looked  up  and  down,  turned  to  the  right 
and  then  to  the  left,  as  if  in  doubt,  and  lunged  for 
ward  in  the  direction  of  the  tavern. 

It  was  Sunday  night,  and  the  lounging  room  wras 
full.  One  of  the  inmates  rose  and  offered  him  a 
chair — he  was  much  respected  in  the  village,  espe 
cially  among  the  rougher  class,  some  of  whom  had 
sailed  with  him — but  he  only  waved  his  hand  in 
thanks. 

"  I  don't  want  to  sit  down ;  I'm  looking  for  Bart. 
Ill 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKJSTEGAT 

Has  he  been  here  ? "  The  sound  came  as  if  from 
between  closed  teeth. 

"  Not  as  I  know  of,  cap'n,"  answered  the  land 
lord  ;  "  not  since  sundown,  nohow." 

"  Do  any  of  you  know  where  he  is  ?  "  The  look  in 
the  captain's  eyes  and  the  sharp,  cutting  tones  of 
his  voice  began  to  be  noticed. 

"  Do  ye  want  him  bad  ?  "  asked  a  man  tilted  back 
in  a  chair  against  the  wall. 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  kin  tell  ye  where  to  find  him." 

"Where?" 

"  Down  on  the  beach  in  the  Refuge  shanty.  He 
and  the  boys  have  a  deck  there  Sunday  nights.  Been 
at  it  all  fall — thought  ye  knowed  it." 

Out  into  the  night  again,  and  without  a  word  of 
thanks,  down  the  road  and  across  the  causeway  to 
the  hard  beach,  drenched  with  the  ceaseless  thrash 
of  the  rising  sea.  He  followed  no  path,  picked  out 
no  road.  Stumbling  along  in  the  half -gloom  of  the 
twilight,  he  could  make  out  the  heads  of  the  sand- 
dunes,  bearded  with  yellow  grass  blown  flat  against 
their  cheeks.  Soon  he  reached  the  prow  of  the  old 
wreck  with  its  shattered  timbers  and  the  water-holes 
left  by  the  tide.  These  he  avoided,  but  the  smaller 
objects  he  trampled  upon  and  over  as  he  strode  on, 
without  caring  where  he  stepped  or  how  often  he 
stumbled.  Outlined  against  the  sand-hills,  bleached 

112 


A    GAME    OF    CAEDS 

white  under  the  dull  light,  he  looked  like  some  evil 
presence  bent  on  mischief,  so  direct  and  forceful 
was  his  unceasing,  persistent  stride. 

When  the  House  of  Refuge  loomed  up  against 
the  gray  froth  of  the  surf  he  stopped  and  drew  breath. 
Bending  forward,  he  scanned  the  beach  ahead,  shad 
ing  his  eyes  with  his  hand  as  he  would  have  done  on 
his  own  ship  in  a  fog.  He  could  make  out  now  some 
streaks  of  yellow  light  showing  through  the  cracks 
one  above  the  other  along  the  side  of  the  house  and 
a  dull  patch  of  red.  He  knew  what  it  meant.  Bart 
and  his  fellows  were  inside,  and  were  using  one  of 
the  ship  lanterns  to  see  by. 

This  settled  in  his  mind,  the  captain  strode  on, 
but  at  a  slower  pace.  He  had  found  his  bearings, 
and  would  steer  with  caution. 

Hugging  the  dunes  closer,  he  approached  the  house 
from  the  rear.  The  big  door  was  shut  and  a  bit  of 
matting  had  been  tacked  over  the  one  window  to 
deaden  the  light.  This  was  why  the  patch  of  red 
was  dull.  He  stood  now  so  near  the  outside  planking 
that  he  could  hear  the  laughter  and  talk  of  those 
within.  By  this  time  the  wind  had  risen  to  half  a 
gale  and  the  moan  on  the  outer  bar  could  be  heard 
in  the  intervals  of  the  pounding  surf.  The  captain 
crept  under  the  eaves  of  the  roof  and  listened.  He 
wanted  to  be  sure  of  Bart's  voice  before  he  acted. 

At  this  instant  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  burst  in  the 
113 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

big  door,  extinguishing  the  light  of  the  lantern,  and 
Bart's  voice  rang  out: 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  boys !  Don't  touch  the 
cards.  I  know  the  door,  and  can  fix  it;  it's  only 
the  bolt  that's  slipped." 

As  Bart  passed  out  into  the  gloom  the  captain 
darted  forward,  seized  him  with  a  grip  of  steel, 
dragged  him  clear  of  the  door,  and  up  the  sand- 
dunes  out  of  hearing.  Then  he  flung  him  loose  and 
stood  facing  the  cowering  boy. 

"  Now  stand  back  and  keep  away  from  me,  for 
I'm  afraid  I'll  kill  you!" 

"  What  have  I  done  ? "  cringed  Bart,  shielding 
his  face  with  his  elbow  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  The 
suddenness  of  the  attack  had  stunned  him. 

"  Don't  ask  me,  you  whelp,  or  I'll  strangle  you. 
Look  at  me !  That's  what  you  been  up  to,  is  it  ?  " 

Bart  straightened  himself,  and  made  some  show 
of  resistance.  His  breath  was  coming  back  to  him. 

"  I  haven't  done  anything — and  if  I  did " 

"  You  lie !  Martha's  back  from  Trenton  and  Lucy 
told  her.  You  never  thought  of  me.  You  never 
thought  of  that  sister  of  hers  whose  heart  you've 
broke,  nor  of  the  old  woman  who  nursed  her  like  a 
mother.  You  thought  of  nobody  but  your  stinkin' 
self.  You're  not  a  man!  You're  a  cur!  a  dog! 
Don't  move !  Keep  away  from  me,  I  tell  ye,  or  I 
may  lose  hold  of  myself." 

114 


A    GAME    OF    CAKDS 

Bart  was  stretching  out  his  hands  now,  as  if  in 
supplication.  He  had  never  seen  his  father  like 
this — the  sight  frightened  him. 

"  Father,  will  you  listen—-      ''  he  pleaded. 

"  I'll  listen  to  nothin'— 

"  Will  you,  please  ?  It's  not  all  my  fault.  She 
ought  to  have  kept  out  of  my  way— 

"Stop!  Take  that  back!  You'd  blame  her, 
would  ye — a  child  just  out  of  school,  and  as  inno 
cent  as  a  baby?  By  God,  you'll  do  right  by  her 
or  you'll  never  set  foot  inside  my  house  again !  " 

Bart  faced  his  father  again. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  the  whole  story  before  you 
judge  me.  I  want  to " 

"  You'll  tell  me  nothin' !  Will  you  act  square 
with  her  ?  " 

"  I  must  tell  you  first.  You  wouldn't  understand 
unless " 

"  You  won't  ?  That's  what  you  mean — you  mean 
you  won't!  Damn  ye!"  The  captain  raised  his 
clenched  fist,  quivered  for  an  instant  as  if  strug 
gling  against  something  beyond  his  control,  dropped 
it  slowly  to  his  side  and  whirling  suddenly,  strode 
back  up  the  beach. 

Bart  staggered  back  against  the  planking,  threw 
out  his  hand  to  keep  from  falling,  and  watched  his 
father's  uncertain,  stumbling  figure  until  he  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  gloom.  The  words  rang  in  his 

115 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

ears  like  a  knell.  The  realization  of  his  position 
and  what  it  meant,  and  might  mean,  rushed  over  him. 
For  an  instant  he  leaned  heavily  against  the  planking 
until  he  had  caught  his  breath.  Then,  with  quiver 
ing  lips  and  shaking  legs,  he  walked  slowly  back  into 
the  house,  shutting  the  big  door  behind  him. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  with  a  forced  smile,  "  who  do 
you  think's  been  outside?  My  father!  Somebody 
told  him,  and  he's  just  been  giving  me  hell  for  play 
ing  cards  on  Sunday." 


116 


CHAPTEK   VII 

THE  EYES   OF  AN   OLD  PORTRAIT 

Before  another  Sunday  night  had  arrived  Ware- 
hold  village  was  alive  with  two  important  pieces  of 
news. 

The  first  was  the  disappearance  of  Bart  Holt. 

Captain  Nat,  so  the  story  ran,  had  caught  him 
carousing  in  the  House  of  Refuge  on  Sunday  night 
with  some  of  his  boon  companions,  and  after  a  stormy 
interview  in  which  the  boy  pleaded  for  forgiveness, 
had  driven  him  out  into  the  night.  Bart  had  left 
town  the  next  morning  at  daylight  and  had  shipped 
as  a  common  sailor  on  board  a  British  bark  bound 
for  Brazil.  No  one  had  seen  him  go — not  even  his 
companions  of  the  night  before. 

The  second  announcement  was  more  startling. 

The  Cobden  girls  were  going  to  Paris.  Lucy  Cob- 
den  had  developed  an  extraordinary  talent  for  music 
during  her  short  stay  in  Trenton  with  her  friend 
Maria  Collins,  and  Miss  Jane,  with  her  customary 
unselfishness  and  devotion  to  her  younger  sister,  had 
decided  to  go  with  her.  They  might  be  gone  two 

117 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

years  or  five — it  depended  on  Lucy's  success.  Mar 
tha  would  remain  at  Yardley  and  take  care  of  the  old 
home. 

Bart's  banishment  coining  first  served  as  a  target 
for  the  fire  of  the  gossip  some  days  before  Jane's  deci 
sion  had  reached  the  ears  of  the  villagers. 

"  I  always  knew  he  would  come  to  no  good  end," 
Miss  Gossaway  called  out  to  a  passer-by  from  her 
eyrie ;  "  and  there's  more  like  him  if  their  fathers 
would  look  after  'em.  Guess  sea's  the  best  place 
for  him." 

Billy  Tatham,  the  stage-driver,  did  not  altogether 
agree  with  the  extremist. 

"  You  hearn  tell,  I  s'pose,  of  how  Captain  Nat 
handled  his  boy  t'other  night,  didn't  ye  ? "  he  re 
marked  to  the  passenger  next  to  him  on  the  front  seat. 
"  It  might  be  the  way  they  did  things  'board  the 
Black  Ball  Line,  but  'tain't  human  and  decent,  an' 
I  told  Cap'n  Nat  so  to-day.  Shut  his  door  in  his 
face  an'  told  him  he'd  kill  him  if  he  tried  to  come  in, 
and  all  because  he  ketched  him  playin'  cards  on  Sun 
day  down  on  the  beach.  Bart  warn't  no  worse  than 
the  others  he  run  with,  but  ye  can't  tell  what  these 
old  sea-dogs  will  do  when  they  git  riled.  I  guess  it 
was  the  rum  more'n  the  cards.  Them  fellers  used  to 
drink  a  power  o'  rum  in  that  shanty.  I've  seen  'em 
staggerin'  home  many  a  Monday  mornin'  when  I 
got  down  early  to  open  up  for  my  team.  It's  the 

118 


THE    EYES    OF    AN    OLD    PORTEAIT 

rum  that  riled  the  cap'n,  I  guess.  He  wouldn't 
stand  it  aboard  ship  and  used  to  put  his  men  in  irons, 
I've  hearn  tell,  when  they  coine  aboard  drunk.  What 
gits  me  is  that  the  cap'n  didn't  know  them  fellers 
met  there  every  night  they  could  git  away,  week-days 
as  well  as  Sundays.  Everybody  'round  here  knew  it 
'cept  him  and  the  light-keeper,  and  he's  so  durned 
lazy  he  never  once  dropped  on  to  'em.  He'd  git 
bounced  if  the  Gov'ment  found  out  he  was  lettin' 
a  gang  run  the  House  o'  Refuge  whenever  they  felt 
like  it.  Fogarty,  the  fisherman's,  got  the  key,  or 
oughter  have  it,  but  the  light-keeper's  responsible, 
so  I  hearn  tell.  Git-up,  Billy,"  and  the  talk  drifted 
into  other  channels. 

The  incident  was  soon  forgotten.  One  young 
man  more  or  less  did  not  make  much  difference  in 
Warehold.  As  to  Captain  Nat,  he  was  known  to  be 
a  scrupulously  honest,  exact  man  who  knew  no  law 
outside  of  his  duty.  He  probably  did  it  for  the 
boy's  good,  although  everybody  agreed  that  he  could 
have  accomplished  his  purpose  in  some  more  merci 
ful  way. 

The  other  sensation — the  departure  of  the  two 
Cobden  girls,  and  their  possible  prolonged  stay  abroad 
• — did  not  subside  so  easily.  Not  only  did  the  neigh 
bors  look  upon  the  Manor  House  as  the  show-place 
of  the  village,  but  the  girls  themselves  were  greatly 
beloved,  Jane  being  especially  idolized  from  Ware- 

119 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

hold  to  Barnegat  and  the  sea.  To  lose  Jane's  pres 
ence  among  them  was  a  positive  calamity  entailing 
a  sorrow  that  most  of  her  neighbors  could  not  bring 
themselves  to  face.  No  one  could  take  her  place. 

Pastor  Dellenbaugh,  when  he  heard  the  news,  sank 
into  his  study  chair  and  threw  up  his  hands  as  if  to 
ward  off  some  blow. 

"  Miss  Jane  going  abroad !  "  he  cried ;  "  and  you 
say  nobody  knows  when  she  will  come  back !  I  can't 
realize  it!  We  might  as  well  close  the  school;  no 
one  else  in  the  village  can  keep  it  together." 

The  Cromartins  and  the  others  all  expressed  simi 
lar  opinions,  the  younger  ladies'  sorrow  being  aggra 
vated  when  they  realized  that  with  Lucy  away  there 
would  be  no  one  to  lead  in  their  merrymakings. 

Martha  held  her  peace;  she  would  stay  at  home, 
she  told  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh,  and  wait  for  their  return 
and  look  after  the  place.  Her  heart  was  broken  with 
the  loneliness  that  would  come,  she  moaned,  but 
what  was  best  for  her  bairn  she  was  willing  to  bear. 
It  didn't  make  much  difference  either  way;  she 
wasn't  long  for  this  world. 

The  doctor's  mother  heard  the  news  with  ill-con 
cealed  satisfaction. 

"  A  most  extraordinary  thing  has  occurred  here, 
my  dear,"  she  said  to  one  of  her  Philadelphia  friends 
who  was  visiting  her — she  was  too  politic  to  talk 
openly  to  the  neighbors.  "  You  have,  of  course,  met 

120 


THE   EYES    OF    AN    OLD    POETEAIT 

that  Miss  Cobden  who  lives  at  Yardley — not  the 
pretty  one — the  plain  one.  Well,  she  is  the  most 
quixotic  creature  in  the  world.  Only  a  few  weeks 
ago  she  wanted  to  become  a  nurse  in  the  public  hos 
pital  here,  and  now  she  proposes  to  close  her  house 
and  go  abroad  for  nobody  knows  how  long,  simply 
because  her  younger  sister  wants  to  study  music,  as 
if  a  school-girl  couldn't  get  all  the  instruction  of  that 
kind  here  that  is  necessary.  Really,  I  never  heard 
of  such  a  thing." 

To  Mrs.  Benson,  a  neighbor,  she  said,  behind  her 
hand  and  in  strict  confidence :  "  Miss  Cobden  is  mor 
bidly  conscientious  over  trifles.  A  fine  woman,  one 
of  the  very  finest  we  have,  but  a  little  too  strait-laced, 
and,  if  I  must  say  it,  somewhat  commonplace,  espe 
cially  for  a  woman  of  her  birth  and  education." 

To  herself  she  said :  "  Never  while  I  live  shall 
Jane  Cobden  marry  my  John !  She  can  never  help 
any  man's  career.  She  has  neither  the  worldly 
knowledge,  nor  the  personal  presence,  nor  the 
money." 

Jane  gave  but  one  answer  to  all  inquiries — and 
there  were  many. 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  move  is  a  sudden  one,"  she 
would  say,  "  but  it  is  for  Lucy's  good,  and  there 
is  no  one  to  go  with  her  but  me."  ~No  one  saw 
beneath  the  mask  that  hid  her  breaking  heart.  To 
them  the  drawn  face  and  the  weary  look  in  her  eyes 

121 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

only  showed  her  grief  at  leaving  home  and  those 
who  loved  her:  to  Mrs.  Cavendish  it  seemed  part 
of  Jane's  peculiar  temperament. 

Nor  could  they  watch  her  in  the  silence  of  the 
night  tossing  on  her  bed,  or  closeted  with  Martha 
in  her  search  for  the  initial  steps  that  had  led  to  this 
horror.  Had  the  Philadelphia  school  undermined 
her  own  sisterly  teachings  or  had  her  companions 
been  at  fault?  Perhaps  it  was  due  to  the  blood  of 
some  long-forgotten  ancestor,  which  in  the  cycle  of 
years  had  cropped  out  in  this  generation,  poisoning 
the  fountain  of  her  youth.  Bart,  she  realized,  had 
played  the  villain  and  the  ingrate,  but  yet  it  was  also 
true  that  Bart,  and  all  his  class,  would  have  been 
powerless  before  a  woman  of  a  different  tempera 
ment.  Who,  then,  had  undermined  this  citadel  and 
given  it  over  to  plunder  and  disgrace  ?  Then  writh 
merciless  exactness  she  searched  her  own  heart.  Had 
it  been  her  fault?  What  safeguard  had  she  herself 
neglected  ?  Wherein  had  she  been  false  to  her  trust 
and  her  promise  to  her  dying  father?  What  could 
she  have  done  to  avert  it  ?  These  ever-haunting,  ever- 
recurring  doubts  maddened  her. 

One  thing  she  was  determined  upon,  cost  what  it 
might — to  protect  her  sister's  name.  No  daughter 
of  Morton  Cobden's  should  be  pointed  at  in  scorn. 
For  generations  no  stain  of  dishonor  had  tarnished 
the  family  name.  This  must  be  preserved,  no  matter 

122 


THE    EYES    OF    AN    OLD    POETKAIT 

who  suffered.  In  this  she  was  sustained  by  Martha, 
her  only  confidante. 

Doctor  John  heard  the  news  from  Jane's  lips  be 
fore  it  was  known  to  the  villagers.  He  had  come  to 
inquire  after  Martha. 

She  met  him  at  the  porch  entrance,  and  led  him 
into  the  drawing-room,  without  a  word  of  welcome. 
Then  shutting  the  door,  she  motioned  him  to  a  seat 
opposite  her  own  on  the  sofa.  The  calm,  determined 
way  with  which  this  was  done — so  unusual  in  one  so 
cordial — startled  him.  He  felt  that  something  of 
momentous  interest,  and,  judging  from  Jane's  face, 
of  serious  import,  had  happened.  He  invariably 
took  his  cue  from  her  face,  and  his  own  spirits  always 
rose  or  fell  as  the  light  in  her  eyes  flashed  or  dimmed. 

"  Is  there  anything  the  matter  ? "  he  asked  nerv 
ously.  "  Martha  worse  ?  " 

"  No,  not  that ;  Martha  is  around  again — it  is 
about  Lucy  and  me."  The  voice  did  not  sound  like 
Jane's. 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  intently,  but  he  did  not 
speak.  Jane  continued,  her  face  now  deathly  pale, 
her  words  coming  slowly. 

"  You  advised  me  some  time  ago  about  Lucy's 
going  to  Trenton,  and  I  am  glad  I  followed  it.  You 
thought  it  would  strengthen  her  love  for  us  all  and 
teach  her  to  love  me  the  better.  It  has — so  much  so 
that  hereafter  we  will  never  be  separated.  I  hope 

123 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

now  you  will  also  approve  of  what  I  have  just  de 
cided  upon.  Lucy  is  going  abroad  to  live,  and  I  am 
going  with  her." 

As  the  words  fell  from  her  lips  her  eyes  crept  up 
to  his  face,  watching  the  effect  of  her  statement.  It 
was  a  cold,  almost  brutal  way  of  putting  it,  she  knew, 
but  she  dared  not  trust  herself  with  anything  less 
formal. 

For  a  moment  he  sat  perfectly  still,  the  color 
gone  from  his  cheeks,  his  eyes  fixed  on  hers,  a  cold 
chill  benumbing  the  roots  of  his  hair.  The  sudden 
ness  of  the  announcement  seemed  to  have  stunned 
him. 

"  For  how  long  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  halting  voice. 

"I  don't  know.  Not  less  than  two  years;  per 
haps  longer." 

"  Two  years?    Is  Lucy  ill ?  " 

"  No ;  she  wants  to  study  music,  and  she  couldn't 
go  alone." 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  this  ? "  he 
asked,  in  a  more  positive  tone.  His  self-control  was 
returning  now. 

"  Yes." 

Doctor  John  rose  from  his  chair,  paced  the  room 
slowly  for  a  moment,  and  crossing  to  the  fireplace 
with  his  back  to  Jane,  stood  under  her  father's  por 
trait,  his  elbows  on  the  mantel,  his  head  in  his  hand. 
Interwoven  with  the  pain  which  the  announcement 

124 


THE    EYES    OF    AST    OLD    POKTRAIT 

had  given  him  was  the  sharper  sorrow  of  her  neglect 
of  him.  In  forming  her  plans  she  had  never  once 
thought  of  her  lifelong  friend. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  something  of  this 
before  ? "  The  inquiry  was  not  addressed  to  Jane, 
but  to  the  smouldering  coals.  "  How  have  I  ever 
failed  you?  What  has  my  daily  life  been  but  an 
open  book  for  you  to  read,  and  here  you  leave  me  for 
years,  and  never  give  me  a  thought." 

Jane  started  in  her  seat. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  friend !  "  she  answered 
quickly  in  a  voice  full  of  tenderness.  "  I  did  not 
mean  to  hurt  you.  It  is  not  that  I  love  all  my  friends 
here  the  less — and  you  know  how  truly  I  appreciate 
your  own  friendship — but  only  that  I  love  my  sister 
more;  and  my  duty  is  with  her.  I  only  decided 
last  night.  Don't  turn  your  back  on  me.  Come 
and  sit  by  me,  and  taik  to  me,"  she  pleaded,  holding 
out  her  hand.  "  I  need  all  your  strength."  As  she 
spoke  the  tears  started  to  her  eyes  and  her  voice  sank 
almost  to  a  whisper. 

The  doctor  lifted  his  head  from  his  palm  and 
walked  quickly  toward  her.  The  suffering  in  her 
voice  had  robbed  him  of  all  resentment. 

"  Forgive  me,  I  did  not  mean  it.  Tell  me,"  he 
said,  in  a  sudden  burst  of  tenderness — all  feeling 
about  himself  had  dropped  away — "  why  must  you 
go  so  soon  ?  Why  not  wait  until  spring  ?  "  He  had 

125 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

taken  his  seat  beside  her  now  and  sat  looking  into 
her  eyes. 

"  Lucy  wants  to  go  at  once,"  she  replied,  in  a 
tone  as  if  the  matter  did  not  admit  of  any  discussion. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  That's  just  like  her.  What  she 
wants  she  can  never  wait  a  minute  for,  but  she  cer 
tainly  would  sacrifice  some  pleasure  of  her  own  to 
please  you.  If  she  wras  determined  to  be  a  musician 
it  would  be  different,  but  it  is  only  for  her  pleasure, 
and  as  an  accomplishment."  He  spoke  earnestly 
and  impersonally,  as  he  always  did  when  she  con 
sulted  him  on  any  of  her  affairs.  He  was  trying,  too, 
to  wipe  from  her  mind  all  remembrance  of  his  im 
patience. 

Jane  kept  her  eyes  on  the  carpet  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said  quietly,  and  he  thought  in  rather  a 
hopeless  tone: 

"  It  is  best  we  go  at  once." 

The  doctor  looked  at  her  searchingly — with  the 
eye  of  a  scientist,  this  time,  probing  for  a  hidden 
meaning. 

"  Then  there  is  something  else  you  have  not  told 
me ;  someone  is  annoying  her,  or  there  is  someone 
with  whom  you  are  afraid  she  will  fall  in  love.  Who 
is  it  ?  You  know  how  I  could  help  in  a  matter  of  that 
kind." 

"  ~No ;  there  is  no  one." 

Doctor  John  leaned  back  thoughtfully  and  tapped 
126 


THE    EYES    OF    AN    OLD    POKTKAIT 

the  arm  of  the  sofa  with  his  fingers.  He  felt  as  if  a 
door  had  been  shut  in  his  face. 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said  slowly,  and  in 
a  baffled  tone.  "  I  have  never  known  yon  to  do  a 
thing  like  this  before.  It  is  entirely  unlike  you. 
There  is  some  mystery  you  are  keeping  from  me. 
Tell  me,  and  let  me  help." 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing  more.  Can't  you  trust 
me  to  do  my  duty  in  my  own  way  ?  "  She  stole  a 
look  at  him  as  she  spoke  and  again  lowered  her 
eyelids." 

"  And  you  are  determined  to  go  ?  "  he  asked  in  his 
former  cross-examining  tone. 

"  Yes." 

Again  the  doctor  kept  silence.  Despite  her  as 
sumed  courage  and  determined  air,  his  experienced 
eye  caught  beneath  it  all  the  shrinking  helplessness 
of  the  woman. 

"  Then  I,  too,  have  reached  a  sudden  resolve," 
he  said  in  a  manner  almost  professional  in  its  pre 
cision.  "  You  cannot  and  shall  not  go  alone." 

"  Oh,  but  Lucy  and  I  can  get  along  together," 
she  exclaimed  with  nervous  haste.  "  There  is  no 
one  we  could  take  but  Martha,  and  she  is  too  old. 
Besides  she  must  look  after  the  house  while  we  are 
away." 

"  No ;  Martha  will  not  do.  No  woman  will  do. 
I  know  Paris  and  its  life ;  it  is  not  the  place  for  two 

127 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

women  to  live  in  alone,  especially  so  pretty  and 
light-hearted  a  woman  as  Lucy." 

"  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  No,  but  I  am,"  he  answered  in  a  softened  voice, 
"  very  much  afraid."  It  was  no  longer  the  physician 
who  spoke,  but  the  friend. 

"Of  what?" 

"  Of  a  dozen  things  you  do  not  understand,  and 
cannot  until  you  encounter  them,"  he  replied,  smooth 
ing  her  hand  tenderly. 

"  Yes,  but  it  cannot  be  helped.  There  is  no  one 
to  go  with  us."  This  came  with  some  positiveness, 
yet  with  a  note  of  impatience  in  her  voice. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  he  answered  gently. 

"  Who  ?  "  she  asked  slowly,  withdrawing  her  hand 
from  his  caress,  an  undefined  fear  rising  in  her 
mind. 

"  Me.    I  will  go  with  you." 

Jane  looked  at  him  with  widening  eyes.  She 
knew  now.  She  had  caught  his  meaning  in  the  tones 
of  his  voice  before  he  had  expressed  it,  and  had  tried 
to  think  of  some  way  to  ward  off  what  she  saw  was 
coming,  but  she  was  swept  helplessly  on. 

"  Let  us  go  together,  Jane,"  he  burst  out,  drawing 
closer  to  her.  All  reserve  was  gone.  The  words 
which  had  pressed  so  long  for  utterance  could  no 
longer  be  held  back.  "  I  cannot  live  here  alone  with 
out  you.  You  know  it,  and  have  always  known  it. 

128 


THE    EYES    OF    AN    OLD    POKTKAIT 

I  love  you  so — don't  let  us  live  apart  any  more.  If 
you  must  go,  go  as  my  wife." 

A  thrill  of  joy  ran  through  her.  Her  lips  quiv 
ered.  She  wanted  to  cry  out,  to  put  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  to  tell  him  everything  in  her  heart.  Then 
came  a  quick,  sharp  pain  that  stifled  every  other 
thought.  For  the  first  time  the  real  bitterness  of 
the  situation  confronted  her.  This  phase  of  it  she 
had  not  counted  upon. 

She  shrank  back  a  little.  "  Don't  ask  me  that !  " 
she  moaned  in  a  tone  almost  of  pain.  "  I  can  stand 
anything  now  but  that.  Not  now — not  now !  " 

Her  hand  was  still  under  his,  her  fingers  lying 
limp,  all  the  pathos  of  her  suffering  in  her  face: 
determination  to  do  her  duty,  horror  over  the  situ 
ation,  and  above  them  all  her  overwhelming  love  for 
him. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  drew  her 
to  him. 

"  You  love  me,  Jane,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  more  than  all  else  in  the  world,"  she 
answered  simply.  "  Too  well  " — and  her  voice  broke 
— "  to  have  you  give  up  your  career  for  me  or  mine." 

"  Then  why  should  we  live  apart  ?  I  am  willing 
to  do  as  much  for  Lucy  as  you  would.  Let  me  share 
the  care  and  responsibility.  You  needn't,  perhaps, 
be  gone  more  than  a  year,  and  then  we  will  all  come 
back  together,  and  I  take  up  my  work  again.  I 

129 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

need  you,  my  beloved.  Nothing  that  I  do  seems  of 
any  use  without  you.  You  are  my  great,  strong 
light,  and  have  always  been  since  the  first  day  I 
loved  you.  Let  me  help  bear  these  burdens.  You 
have  carried  them  so  long  alone/' 

His  face  lay  against  hers  now,  her  hand  still 
clasped  tight  in  his.  For  an  instant  she  did  not 
answer  or  move;  then  she  straightened  a  little  and 
lifted  her  cheek  from  his. 

"  John/'  she  said — it  was  the  first  time  in  all  her 
life  she  had  called  him  thus — "  you  wouldn't  love 
me  if  I  should  consent.  You  have  work  to  do  here 
and  I  now  have  work  to  do  on  the  other  side.  We 
cannot  work  together;  we  must  work  apart.  Your 
heart  is  speaking,  and  I  love  you  for  it,  but  we  must 
not  think  of  it  now.  It  may  come  right  some  time — 
God  only  knows !  My  duty  is  plain — I  must  go  with 
Lucy.  Neither  you  nor  my  dead  father  would  love 
me  if  I  did  differently." 

"  I  only  know  that  I  love  you  and  that  you  love 
me  and  nothing  else  should  count,"  he  pleaded  im 
patiently.  "  Nothing  else  shall  count.  There  is 
nothing  you  could  do  would  make  me  love  you  less. 
You  are  practical  and  wise  about  all  your  plans. 
Why  has  this  whim  of  Lucy's  taken  hold  of  you  as 
it  has?  And  it  is  only  a  whim;  Lucy  will  want 
something  else  in  six  months.  Oh,  I  cannot — can 
not  let  you  go.  I'm  so  desolate  without  you — my 

130 


THE    EYES    OF    AN    OLD    PORTRAIT 

whole  life  is  yours — everything  I   do   is  for  you. 

0  Jane,  my  beloved,  don't  shut  me  out  of  your  life ! 

1  will   not  let   you  go   without   me !  "      His  voice 
vibrated  with  a  certain  indignation,  as  if  he  had  been 
unjustly   treated.      She   raised   one   hand   and   laid 
it  on  his  forehead,  smoothing  his  brow  as  a  mother 
would  that  of  a  child.    The  other  still  lay  in  his. 

"  Don't,  John,"  she  moaned,  in  a  half -piteous  tone. 
"  Don't !  Don't  talk  so !  I  can  only  bear  comforting 
words  to-day.  I  am  too  wretched — too  utterly  broken 
and  miserable.  Please !  please,  John !  " 

He  dropped  her  hand  and  leaning  forward  put  both 
of  his  own  to  his  head.  He  knew  how  strong  was 
her  will  and  how  futile  would  be  his  efforts  to 
change  her  mind  unless  her  conscience  agreed. 

"  I  won't,"  he  answered,  as  a  strong  man  answers 
who  is  baffled.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  be  impatient  or 
exacting."  Then  he  raised  his  head  and  looked 
steadily  into  her  eyes.  "  What  would  you  have  me 
do,  then  ?  " 

"  Wait." 

"  But  you  give  me  no  promise." 

"  ~No,  I  cannot — not  now.  I  am  like  one  stagger 
ing  along,  following  a  dim  light  that  leads  hither 
and  thither,  and  which  may  any  moment  go  out 
and  leave  me  in  utter  darkness." 

"  Then  there  is  something  you  have  not  told  me  ?  " 

"  O  John !     Can't  you  trust  me  ?  " 
131 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  And  yet  you  love  ine  ? " 

"  As  my  life,  John." 

When  he  had  gone  and  she  had  closed  the  door 
upon  him,  she  went  back  to  the  sofa  where  the  two 
had  sat  together,  and  with  her  hands  clasped  tight 
above  her  head,  sank  down  upon  its  cushions.  The 
tears  came  like  rain  now,  bitter,  blinding  tears  that 
she  could  not  check. 

"  I  have  hurt  him,"  she  moaned.  "  He  is  so  good, 
and  strong,  and  helpful.  He  never  thinks  of  him 
self ;  it  is  always  of  me — me,  who  can  do  nothing. 
The  tears  were  in  his  eyes — I  saw  them.  Oh,  I've 
hurt  him — hurt  him!  And  yet,  dear  God,  thou 
knowest  I  could  not  help  it." 

Maddened  with  the  pain  of  it  all  she  sprang  up, 
determined  to  go  to  him  and  tell  him  everything. 
To  throw  herself  into  his  arms  and  beg  forgiveness 
for  her  cruelty  and  crave  the  protection  of  his 
strength.  Then  her  gaze  fell  upon  her  father's  por 
trait!  The  cold,  steadfast  eyes  were  looking  down 
upon  her  as  if  they  could  read  her  very  soul.  "  No  I 
No  I  "  she  sobbed,  putting  her  hands  over  her  eyes 
as  if  to  shut  out  some  spectre  she  had  not  the  courage 
to  face.  "  It  must  not  be — it  cannot  be,"  and  she 
sank  back  exhausted. 

When  the  paroxysm  was  over  she  rose  to  her  feet, 
dried  her  eyes,  smoothed  her  hair  with  both  hands, 
and  then,  with  lips  tight  pressed  and  faltering  steps, 

132 


THE    EYES    OF   A~N   OLD    POKTKAIT 

walked  upstairs  to  where  Martha  was  getting  Lucy's 
things  ready  for  the  coming  journey.  Crossing  the 
room,  she  stood  with  her  elbows  on  the  mantel,  her 
cheeks  tight  pressed  between  her  palms,  her  eyes  on 
the  embers.  Martha  moved  from  the  open  trunk  and 
stood  behind  her. 

"  It  was  Doctor  John,  wasn't  it  ?  "  she  asked  in  a 
broken  voice  that  told  of  her  suffering. 

"  Yes,"  moaned  Jane  from  between  her  hands. 

"  And  ye  told  him  about  your  goin'  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Martha."  Her  frame  was  shaking  with 
her  sobs. 

"And  about  Lucy?" 

"  No,  I  could  not." 

Martha  leaned  forward  and  laid  her  hand  on 
Jane's  shoulder. 

"  Poor  lassie !  "  she  said,  patting  it  softly.  "  Poor 
lassie!  That  was  the  hardest  part.  He's  big  and 
strong  and  could  V  comforted  ye.  My  heart  aches 
for  ye  both!" 


133 


CHAPTEE   VIII 

AN   ARRIVAL 

With  the  departure  of  Jane  and  Lucy  the  old 
homestead  took  on  that  desolate,  abandoned  look 
which  comes  to  most  homes  when  all  the  life  and 
joyousness  have  gone  from  them.  Weeds  grew  in  the 
roadway  between  the  lilacs,  dandelions  flaunted  them 
selves  over  the  grass-plots;  the  shutters  of  the  porch 
side  of  the  house  were  closed,  and  the  main  gate, 
always  thrown  wide  day  and  night  in  ungoverned 
welcome,  was  seldom  opened  except  to  a  few  intimate 
friends  of  the  old  nurse. 

At  first  Pastor  Dellenbaugh  had  been  considerate 
enough  to  mount  the  long  path  to  inquire  for  news 
of  the  travelers  and  to  see  how  Martha  was  getting 
along,  but  after  the  receipt  of  the  earlier  letters  from 
Jane  telling  of  their  safe  arrival  and  their  sojourn 
in  a  little  village  but  a  short  distance  out  of  Paris, 
convenient  to  the  great  city,  even  his  visits  ceased. 
Captain  Holt  never  darkened  the  door;  nor  did  he 
ever  willingly  stop  to  talk  to  Martha  when  he  met 
her  on  the  road.  She  felt  the  slight,  and  avoided 

134 


ARKIVAL 

him  when  she  could.  This  resulted  in  their  seldom 
speaking  to  each  other,  and  then  only  in  the  most 
casual  way.  She  fancied  he  might  think  she  wanted 
news  of  Bart,  and  so  gave  him  no  opportunity  to  dis 
cuss  him  or  his  whereabouts ;  but  she  was  mistaken. 
The  captain  never  mentioned  his  name  to  friend  or 
stranger.  To  him  the  boy  was  dead  for  all  time. 
2s"or  had  anyone  of  his  companions  heard  from  him 
since  that  stormy  night  on  the  beach. 

Doctor  John's  struggle  had  lasted  for  months,  but 
he  had  come  through  it  chastened  and  determined. 
For  the  first  few  days  he  went  about  his  work  as 
one  in  a  dream,  his  mind  on  the  woman  he  loved, 
his  hand  mechanically  doing  its  duty.  Jane  had  so 
woven  herself  into  his  life  that  her  sudden  departure 
had  been  like  the  upwrenching  of  a  plant,  tearing 
out  the  fibres  twisted  about  his  heart,  cutting  off  all 
his  sustenance  and  strength.  The  inconsistencies  of 
her  conduct  especially  troubled  him.  If  she  loved 
him — and  she  had  told  him  that  she  did,  and  with 
their  cheeks  touching — how  could  she  leave  him  in 
order  to  indulge  a  mere  whim  of  her  sister's  ?  And 
if  she  loved  him  well  enough  to  tell  him  so,  why 
had  she  refused  to  plight  him  her  troth?  Such  a 
course  was  unnatural,  and  out  of  his  own  and  every 
one  else's  experience.  Women  who  loved  men  with 
a  great,  strong,  healthy  love,  the  love  he  could  give 
her,  and  the  love  he  knew  she  could  give  him,  never 

135 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

permitted  such  trifles  to  come  between  them  and 
their  life's  happiness.  What,  he  asked  himself  a 
thousand  times,  had  brought  this  change? 

As  the  months  went  by  these  doubts  and  specula 
tions  one  by  one  passed  out  of  his  mind,  and  only 
the  image  of  the  woman  he  adored,  with  all  her 
qualities — loyalty  to  her  trust,  tenderness  over  Lucy, 
and  unquestioned  love  for  himself — rose  clear.  No, 
he  would  believe  in  her  to  the  end!  She  was  still 
all  he  had  in  life.  If  she  would  not  be  his  wife  she 
should  be  his  friend.  That  happiness  was  worth  all 
else  to  him  in  the  world.  His  was  not  to  criticise, 
but  to  help.  Help  as  she  wanted  it ;  preserving  her 
standard  of  personal  honor,  her  devotion  to  her  ideals, 
her  loyalty,  her  blind  obedience  to  her  trust. 

Mrs.  Cavendish  had  seen  the  change  in  her  son's 
demeanor  and  had  watched  him  closely  through  his 
varying  moods,  but  though  she  divined  their  cause 
she  had  not  sought  to  probe  his  secret. 

His  greatest  comfort  was  in  his  visits  to  Martha. 
He  always  dropped  in  to  see  her  when  he  made  his 
rounds  in  the  neighborhood;  sometimes  every  day, 
sometimes  once  a  week,  depending  on  his  patients 
and  their  condition — visits  which  were  always  pro 
longed  when  a  letter  came  from  either  of  the  girls, 
for  at  first  Lucy  wrote  to  the  old  nurse  as  often  as 
did  Jane.  Apart  from  this  the  doctor  loved  the 
patient  caretaker,  both  for  her  loyalty  and  for  her 

136 


AN   AKEIVAL 

gentleness.  And  she  loved  him  in  return;  clinging 
to  him  as  an  older  woman  clings  to  a  strong  man, 
following  his  advice  (he  never  gave  orders)  to  the 
minutest  detail  when  something  in  the  management 
or  care  of  house  or  grounds  exceeded  her  grasp. 
Consulting  him,  too,  and  this  at  Jane's  special  re 
quest — regarding  any  financial  complications  which 
needed  prompt  attention,  and  which,  but  for  his 
services,  might  have  required  Jane's  immediate  return 
to  disentangle.  She  loved,  too,  to  talk  of  Lucy  and  of 
Miss  Jane's  goodness  to  her  bairn,  saying  she  had 
been  both  a  sister  and  a  mother  to  her,  to  which 
the  doctor  would  invariably  add  some  tribute  of 
his  own  which  only  bound  the  friendship  the 
closer. 

His  main  relief,  however,  lay  in  his  work,  and  in 
this  he  became  each  day  more  engrossed.  He  seemed 
never  to  be  out  of  his  gig  unless  at  the  bedside  of 
some  patient.  So  long  and  wearing  had  the  routes 
become — often  beyond  Barnegat  and  as  far  as  West- 
field — that  the  sorrel  gave  out,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  add  another  horse  to  his  stable.  His  patients  saw 
the  weary  look  in  his  eyes — as  of  one  who  had  often 
looked  on  sorrow — and  thought  it  was  the  hard  work 
and  anxiety  over  them  that  had  caused  it.  But  the 
old  nurse  knew  better. 

"  His  heart's  breakin'  for  love  of  her,"  she  would 
say  to  Meg,  looking  down  into  his  sleepy  eyes — she 

137 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

cuddled  him  more  than  ever  these  days — "  and 
I  don't  wonder.  God  knows  how  it  '11  all  end." 

Jane  wrote  to  him  but  seldom;  only  half  a  dozen 
letters  in  all  during  the  first  year  of  her  absence; 
among  them  one  to  tell  him  of  their  safe  arrival, 
another  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness  to  Martha, 
and  a  third  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  a  student  friend  of  his  who  was 
now  a  prominent  physician  in  Paris,  and  who  might 
be  useful  in  case  either  of  them  fell  ill.  He  had 
written  to  his  friend  at  the  same  time,  giving  the 
address  of  the  two  girls,  but  the  physician  had  an 
swered  that  he  had  called  at  the  street  and  number, 
but  no  one  knew  of  them.  The  doctor  reported  this 
to  Jane  in  his  next  letter,  asking  her  to  write  to  his 
friend  so  that  he  might  know  of  their  whereabouts 
should  they  need  his  services,  for  which  Jane,  in  a 
subsequent  letter,  thanked  him,  but  made  no  mention 
of  sending  to  his  friend  should  occasion  require. 
These  subsequent  letters  said  very  little  about  their 
plans  and  carefully  avoided  all  reference  to  their 
daily  life  or  to  Lucy's  advancement  in  her  studies, 
and  never  once  set  any  time  for  their  coming  home. 
He  wondered  at  her  neglect  of  him,  and  when  no 
answer  came  to  his  continued  letters,  except  at  long 
intervals,  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  and 
laid  the  whole  matter  before  Martha. 

"  She  means  nothing,  doctor,  dear,"  she  had  an- 
138 


AN"    ARKIVAL 

swered,  taking  his  hand  and  looking  up  into  his 
troubled  face.  "  Her  heart  is  all  right ;  she's  goin' 
through  deep  waters,  bein'  away  from  everybody  she 
loves — you  most  of  all.  Don't  worry ;  keep  on  lovin' 
her,  ye'll  never  have  cause  to  repent  it." 

That  same  night  Martha  wrote  to  Jane,  giving  her 
every  detail  of  the  interview,  and  in  due  course  of 
time  handed  the  doctor  a  letter  in  which  Jane  wrote : 
"  He  must  not  stop  writing  to  me ;  his  letters  are  all 
the  comfort  I  have  " — a  line  not  intended  for  the 
doctor's  eyes,  but  which  the  good  soul  could  not  keep 
from  him,  so  eager  was  she  to  relieve  his  pain. 

Jane's  letter  to  him  in  answer  to  his  own  express 
ing  his  unhappiness  over  her  neglect  was  less  direct, 
but  none  the  less  comforting  to  him.  "  I  am  con 
stantly  moving  about,"  the  letter  ran,  "  and  have 
much  to  do  and  cannot  always  answer  your  letters, 
so  please  do  not  expect  them  too  often.  But  I  am 
always  thinking  of  you  and  your  kindness  to  dear 
Martha.  You  do  for  me  when  you  do  for  her." 

After  this  it  became  a  settled  habit  between  them, 
he  writing  by  the  weekly  steamer,  telling  her  every 
thought  of  his  life,  and  she  replying  at  long  intervals. 
In  these  no  word  of  love  was  spoken  on  her  side ;  nor 
was  any  reference  made  to  their  last  interview.  But 
this  fact  did  not  cool  the  warmth  of  his  affection 
nor  weaken  his  faith.  She  had  told  him  she  loved 
him,  and  with  her  own  lips.  That  was  enough — 

139 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

enough  from  a  woman  like  Jane.  He  would  lose 
faith  when  she  denied  it  in  the  same  way.  In  the 
meantime  she  was  his  very  breath  and  being. 

One  morning  two  years  after  Jane's  departure, 
while  the  doctor  and  his  mother  sat  at  breakfast, 
Mrs.  Cavendish  filling  the  tea-cups,  the  spring  sun 
shine  lighting  up  the  snow-white  cloth  and  polished 
silver,  the  mail  arrived  and  two  letters  were  laid 
at  their  respective  plates,  one  for  the  doctor  and  the 
other  for  his  mother. 

As  Doctor  John  glanced  at  the  handwriting  his 
face  flushed,  and  his  eyes  danced  with  pleasure. 
With  eager,  trembling  fingers  he  broke  the  seal  and 
ran  his  eyes  hungrily  over  the  contents.  It  had 
been  his  habit  to  turn  to  the  bottom  of  the  last  page 
before  he  read  the  preceding  ones,  so  that  he  might 
see  the  signature  and  note  the  final  words  of  affec 
tion  or  friendship,  such  as  "  Ever  your  friend/' 
or  "  Affectionately  yours,"  or  simply  "  Your  friend," 
written  above  Jane's  name.  These  were  to  him 
the  thermometric  readings  of  the  warmth  of  her 
heart. 

Half  way  down  the  first  page — before  he  had  time 
to  turn  the  leaf — he  caught  his  breath  in  an  effort 
to  smother  a  sudden  outburst  of  joy.  Then  with  a 
supreme  effort  he  regained  his  self-control  and  read 
the  letter  to  the  end.  (He  rarely  mentioned  Jane's 
name  to  his  mother,  and  he  did  not  want  his  delight 

140 


ARRIVAL 

over  the  contents  of  the  letter  to  be  made  the  basis 
of  comment.) 

Mrs.  Cavendish's  outburst  over  the  contents  of  her 
own  envelope  broke  the  silence  and  relieved  his 
tension. 

"  Oh,  how  fortunate !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Listen, 
John;  now  I  really  have  good  news  for  you.  You 
remember  I  told  you  that  I  met  old  Dr.  Pencoyd  the 
last  time  I  was  in  Philadelphia,  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  him.  I  told  him  how  you  were  buried  here 
and  how  hard  you  worked  and  how  anxious  I  was 
that  you  should  leave  Barnegat,  and  he  promised  to 
write  to  me,  and  he  has.  Here's  his  letter.  He  says 
he  is  getting  too  old  to  continue  his  practice  alone, 
that  his  assistant  has  fallen  ill,  and  that  if  you  will 
come  to  him  at  once  he  will  take  you  into  partnership 
and  give  you  half  his  practice.  I  always  knew  some 
thing  good  would  come  out  of  my  last  visit  to  Phila 
delphia.  Aren't  you  delighted,  my  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  perfectly  overjoyed,"  answered  the  doctor, 
laughing.  He  was  more  than  delighted — brimming 
over  with  happiness,  in  fact — but  not  over  his 
mother's  news;  it  was  the  letter  held  tight  in  his 
grasp  that  was  sending  electric  thrills  through  him. 
"  A  fine  old  fellow  is  Dr.  Pencoyd — known  him  for 
years,"  he  continued ;  "  I  attended  his  lectures  before 
I  went  abroad.  Lives  in  a  musty  old  house  on  Chest 
nut  Street,  stuffed  full  of  family  portraits  and  old 

141 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

mahogany  furniture,  and  not  a  comfortable  chair 
or  sofa  in  the  place;  wears  yellow  Nankeen  waist 
coats,  takes  snuff,  and  carries  a  fob.  Oh,  yes,  same 
old  fellow.  Very  kind  of  him,  mother,  but  wouldn't 
you  rather  have  the  sunlight  dance  in  upon  you  as  it 
does  here  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  sea  through 
the  window  than  to  look  across  at  your  neighbors' 
back  walls  and  white  marble  steps  ?  "  It  was  across 
that  same  sea  that  Jane  was  coming,  and  the  sun 
shine  would  come  with  her! 

"  Yes ;  but,  John,  surely  you  are  not  going  to  re 
fuse  this  without  looking  into  it  ?  "  she  argued,  eye 
ing  him  through  her  gold-rimmed  glasses.  "  Go  and 
see  him,  and  then  you  can  judge.  It's  his  practice 
you  want,  not  his  house." 

"  No;  that's  just  what  I  don't  want.  I've  got  too 
much  practice  now.  Somehow  I  can't  keep  my  peo 
ple  well.  No,  mother,  dear,  don't  bother  your  dear 
head  over  the  old  doctor  and  his  wants.  Write  him 
that  I  am  most  grateful,  but  that  the  fact  is  I  need  an 
assistant  myself,  and  if  he  will  be  good  enough  to  send 
someone  down  here,  I'll  keep  him  busy  every  hour  of 
the  day  and  night.  Then,  again,"  he  continued,  a 
more  serious  tone  in  his  voice,  "  I  couldn't  possibly 
leave  here  now,  even  if  I  wished  to,  which  I  do  not." 

Mrs.  Cavendish  eyed  him  intently.  She  had  ex 
pected  just  such  a  refusal.  Nothing  that  she  ever 
planned  for  his  advancement  did  he  agree  to. 

142 


AN    AEEIYAL 

"  Why  not  \  "  she  asked,  with  some  impatience. 

"  The  new  hospital  is  about  finished,  and  I  am 
going  to  take  charge  of  it." 

"  Do  they  pay  you  for  it  ? "  she  continued,  in  an 
incisive  tone. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  they  will,  nor  can.  It's  not 
that  kind  of  a  hospital,"  answered  the  doctor  gravely. 

"  And  you  will  look  after  these  people  just  as  you 
do  after  Fogarty  and  the  Branscombs,  and  every 
body  else  up  and  down  the  shore,  and  never  take  a 
penny  in  pay !  "  she  retorted  with  some  indignation. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  will,  mother.  A  disappointing 
son,  am  I  not?  But  there's  no  one  to  blame  but 
yourself,  old  lady,"  and  with  a  laugh  he  rose  from 
his  seat,  Jane's  letter  in  his  hand,  and  kissed  his 
mother  on  the  cheek. 

"  But,  John,  dear,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  pleading 
petulance  as  she  looked  into  his  face,  still  holding  on 
to  the  sleeve  of  his  coat  to  detain  him  the  longer, 
"  just  think  of  this  letter  of  Pencoyd's ;  nothing  has 
ever  been  offered  you  better  than  this.  He  has  the 
very  best  people  in  Philadelphia  on  his  list,  and  you 
would  get " 

The  doctor  slipped  his  hand  under  his  mother's 
chin,  as  he  would  have  done  to  a  child,  and  said 
with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye — he  was  very  happy  this 
morning : 

"  That's  precisely  my  case — I've  got  the  very  best 
143 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

people  in  three  counties  on  my  list.     That's  much 
better  than  the  old  doctor." 

"  Who  are  they,  pray  ?  "  She  was  softening  under 
her  son's  caress. 

"Well,  let  me  think.  There's  the  distinguished 
Mr.  Tatham,  who  attends  to  the  transportation  of 
the  cities  of  Warehold  and  Barnegat ;  and  the  Right 
Honorable  Mr.  Tipple,  and  Mrs.  and  Miss  Gossaway, 
renowned  for  their  toilets " 

Mrs.  Cavendish  bit  her  lip.  When  her  son  was 
in  one  of  these  moods  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  keep 
her  temper. 

"  And  the  wonderful  Mrs.   Malmsley,   and " 

Mrs.  Cavendish  looked  up.  The  name  had  an  aris 
tocratic  sound,  but  it  was  unknown  to  her. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  the  wonderful  Mrs.  Malms- 
ley  ? "  inquired  the  doctor,  with  a  quizzical  smile. 

"  No,  I  never  heard  of  her." 

"  Well,  she's  just  moved  into  Warehold.  Poor 
woman,  she  hasn't  been  out  of  bed  for  years !  She's 
the  wife  of  the  new  butcher,  and 

"  The  butcher's  wife  ?  " 

"  The  butcher's  wife,  my  dear  mother,  a  most 
delightful  old  person,  who  has  brought  up  three 
sons,  and  each  one  a  credit  to  her." 

Mrs.  Cavendish  let  go  her  hold  on  the  doctor's 
sleeve  and  settled  back  in  her  chair. 

144 


AN    AKEIVAL 

"  And  you  won't  even  write  to  Dr.  Pencoyd  ?  " 
she  asked  in  a  disheartened  way,  as  if  she  knew  he 
would  refuse. 

"  Oh,  with  pleasure,  and  thank  him  most  kindly, 
but  I  couldn't  leave  Barnegat;  not  now.  Not  at 
any  time,  so  far  as  I  can  see." 

"And  I  suppose  when  Jane  Cobden  comes  home 
in  a  year  or  so  she  will  work  with  you  in  the  hospi 
tal.  She  wanted  to  turn  nurse  the  last  time  I 
talked  to  her."  This  special  arrow  in  her  maternal 
quiver,  poisoned  with  her  jealousy,  was  always 
ready. 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile  that  lighted 
up  his  whole  face ;  "  only  it  will  not  be  a  year.  Miss 
Jane  will  be  here  on  the  next  steamer." 

Mrs.  Cavendish  put  down  her  tea-cup  and  looked 
at  her  son  in  astonishment.  The  doctor  still  kept 
his  eyes  on  her  face. 

"  Be  here  by  the  next  steamer !  How  do  you 
know?" 

The  doctor  held  up  the  letter. 

"  Lucy  will  remain,"  he  added.  "  She  is  going 
to  Germany  to  continue  her  studies." 

"  And  Jane  is  coming  home  alone  ?  " 

"  No,  she  brings  a  little  child  with  her,  the  son 
of  a  friend,  she  writes.  She  asks  that  I  arrange 
to  have  Martha  meet  them  at  the  dock." 

"  Somebody,  I  suppose,  she  has  picked  up  out  of 
145 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

the  streets.  She  is  always  doing  these  wild,  unprac 
tical  things.  Whose  child  is  it  ?  " 

"  She  doesn't  say,  but  I  quite  agree  with  you  that 
it  was  helpless,  or  she  wouldn't  have  protected  it." 

"  Why  don't  Lucy  come  with  her  ?  " 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  And  I  suppose  you  will  go  to  the  ship  to  meet 
her  ?  " 

The  doctor  drew  himself  up,  clicked  his  heels 
together  with  the  air  of  an  officer  saluting  his  supe 
rior — really  to  hide  his  joy — and  said  with  mock 
gravity,  his  hand  on  his  heart: 

"  I  shall,  most  honorable  mother,  be  the  first  to 
take  her  ladyship's  hand  as  she  walks  down  the  gang 
plank."  Then  he  added,  with  a  tone  of  mild  reproof 
in  his  voice :  "  What  a  funny,  queer  old  mother  you 
are !  Always  worrying  yourself  over  the  unimportant 
and  the  impossible,"  and  stooping  down,  he  kissed 
her  again  on  the  cheek  and  passed  out  of  the  room 
on  the  way  to  his  office. 

"  That  woman  always  comes  up  at  the  wrong 
moment,"  Mrs.  Cavendish  said  to  herself  in  a  bitter 
tone.  "  I  knew  he  had  received  some  word  from  her, 
I  saw  it  in  his  face.  He  would  have  gone  to  Phila 
delphia  but  for  Jane  Cobden." 


146 


CHAPTEK   IX 

THE   SPREAD  OF  FIBE 

The  doctor  kept  his  word.  His  hand  was  the  first 
that  touched  Jane's  when  she  came  down  the  gang 
plank,  Martha  beside  him,  holding  out  her  arms  for 
the  child,  cuddling  it  to  her  bosom,  wrapping  her 
shawl  about  it  as  if  to  protect  it  from  the  gaze  of  the 
inquisitive. 

"  O  doctor !  it  was  so  good  of  you !  "  were  Jane's 
first  words.  It  hurt  her  to  call  him  thus,  but  she 
wanted  to  establish  the  new  relation  clearly.  She 
had  shouldered  her  cross  and  must  bear  its  weight 
alone  and  in  her  own  way.  "  You  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  see  a  face  from  home!  I  am  so  glad  to  get 
here.  But  you  should  not  have  left  your  people;  I 
wrote  Martha  and  told  her  so.  All  I  wanted  you  to 
do  was  to  have  her  meet  me  here.  Thank  you,  dear 
friend,  for  coming." 

She  had  not  let  go  his  hand,  clinging  to  him  as  a 
timid  woman  in  crossing  a  narrow  bridge  spanning 
an  abyss  clings  to  the  strong  arm  of  a  man. 

He  helped  her  to  the  dock  as  tenderly  as  if  she 
had  been  a  child ;  asking  her  if  the  voyage  had  been 

147 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

a  rough  one,  whether  she  had  been  ill  in  her  berth, 
and  whether  she  had  taken  care  of  the  baby  herself, 
and  why  she  had  brought  no  nurse  with  her.  She 
saw  his  meaning,  but  she  did  not  explain  her  weak 
ness  or  offer  any  explanation  of  the  cause  of  her  ap 
pearance  or  of  the  absence  of  a  nurse.  In  a  moment 
she  changed  the  subject,  asking  after  his  mother  and 
his  own  work,  and  seemed  interested  in  what  he  told 
her  about  the  neighbors. 

When  the  joy  of  hearing  her  voice  and  of  looking 
into  her  dear  face  once  more  had  passed,  his  skilled 
eyes  probed  the  deeper.  He  noted  with  a  sinking  at 
the  heart  the  dark  circles  under  the  drooping  lids, 
the  drawn,  pallid  skin  and  telltale  furrows  that  had 
cut  their  way  deep  into  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes,  too, 
had  lost  their  lustre,  and  her  step  lacked  the  spring 
and  vigor  of  her  old  self.  The  diagnosis  alarmed 
him.  Even  the  mould  of  her  face,  so  distinguished, 
and  to  him  so  beautiful,  had  undergone  a  change; 
whether  through  illness,  or  because  of  some  mental 
anguish,  he  could  not  decide. 

When  he  pressed  his  inquiries  about  Lucy  she 
answered  with  a  half -stifled  sigh  that  Lucy  had  de 
cided  to  remain  abroad  for  a  year  longer;  adding 
that  it  had  been  a  great  relief  to  her,  and  that  at  first 
she  had  thought  of  remaining  with  her,  but  that  their 
affairs,  as  he  knew,  had  become  so  involved  at  home 
that  she  feared  their  means  of  living  might  be 

148 


THE    SPEEAD    OF   FIRE 

jeopardized  if  she  did  not  return  at  once.  The  child, 
however,  would  be  a  comfort  to  both  Martha  and 
herself  until  Lucy  came.  Then  she  added  in  a  con 
strained  voice: 

"  Its  mother  would  not,  or  could  not  care  for  it, 
and  so  I  brought  it  with  me." 

Once  at  home  and  the  little  waif  safely  tucked 
away  in  the  crib  that  had  sheltered  Lucy  in  the 
old  days,  the  neighbors  began  to  flock  in;  Uncle 
Ephraim  among  the  first. 

"  My,  but  I'm  glad  you're  back !  "  he  burst  out. 
"  Martha's  been  lonelier  than  a  cat  in  a  garret,  and 
down  at  our  house  we  ain't  much  better.  And  so 
that  Bunch  of  Roses  is  going  to  stay  over  there,  is 
she,  and  set  those  Frenchies  crazy  ?  " 

Pastor  Dellenbaugh  took  both  of  Jane's  hands  into 
his  own  and  looking  into  her  face,  said : 

"  Ah,  but  we've  missed  you !  There  has  been  no 
standard,  my  dear  Miss  Jane,  since  you've  been  gone. 
I  have  felt  it,  and  so  has  everyone  in  the  church. 
It  is  good  to  have  you  once  more  with  us." 

Mrs.  Cavendish  could  hardly  conceal  her  satisfac 
tion,  although  she  was  careful  what  she  said  to  her 
son.  Her  hope  was  that  the  care  of  the  child  would 
so  absorb  Jane  that  John  would  regain  his  freedom 
and  be  no  longer  subservient  to  Miss  Cobden's 
whims. 

149 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

"  And  so  Lucy  is  to  stay  in  Paris  ?  "  she  said,  with 
one  of  her  sweetest  smiles.  "  She  is  so  charming 
and  innocent,  that  sweet  sister  of  yours,  my  dear 
Miss  Jane,  and  so  sympathetic.  I  quite  lost  my  heart 
to  her.  And  to  study  music,  too?  A  most  noble 
accomplishment,  my  dear.  My  grandmother,  who 
was  an  Erskine,  you  know,  played  divinely  on  the 
harp,  and  many  of  my  ancestors,  especially  the  L)ag- 
worthys,  were  accomplished  musicians.  Your  sister 
will  look  lovely  bending  over  a  harp.  My  grand 
mother  had  her  portrait  painted  that  way  by  Peale, 
and  it  still  hangs  in  the  old  house  in  Trenton.  And 
they  tell  me  you  have  brought  a  little  angel  with  you 
to  bring  up  and  share  your  loneliness?  How  pa 
thetic,  and  how  good  of  you !  " 

The  village  women — they  came  in  groups — asked 
dozens  of  questions  before  Jane  had  had  even  time 
to  shake  each  one  by  the  hand.  Was  Lucy  so  in  love 
with  the  life  abroad  that  she  would  never  come  back  \ 
was  she  just  as  pretty  as  ever  ?  what  kind  of  bonnets 
were  being  worn?  etc.,  etc. 

The  child  in  Martha's  arms  was,  of  course,  the 
object  of  special  attention.  They  all  agreed  that 
it  was  a  healthy,  hearty,  and  most  beautiful  baby; 
just  the  kind  of  a  child  one  would  want  to  adopt 
if  one  had  any  such  extraordinary  desires. 

This  talk  continued  until  they  had  gained  the 
highway,  when  they  also  agreed — and  this  without 

150 


THE    SPKEAD    OF    FIKE 

a  single  dissenting  voice — that  in  all  the  village  Jane 
Cobden  was  the  only  woman  conscientious  enough 
to  want  to  bring  up  somebody  else's  child,  and  a 
foreigner  at  that,  when  there  were  any  quantity  of 
babies  up  and  down  the  shore  that  could  be  had  for 
the  asking.  The  little  creature  was,  no  doubt,  help 
less,  and  appealed  to  Miss  Jane's  sympathies,  but 
why  bring  it  home  at  all?  Were  there  not  places 
enough  in  France  where  it  could  be  brought  up  ?  etc., 
etc.  This  sort  of  gossip  went  on  for  days  after 
Jane's  return,  each  dropper-in  at  tea-table  or  village 
gathering  having  some  view  of  her  own  to  express, 
the  women  doing  most  of  the  talking. 

The  discussion  thus  begun  by  friends  was  soon 
taken  up  by  the  sewing  societies  and  church  gather 
ings,  one  member  in  good  standing  remarking  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  by  everybody: 

"  As  for  me,  I  ain't  never  surprised  at  nothin' 
Jane  Cobden  does.  She's  queerer  than  Dick's  hat 
band,  and  allus  was,  and  I've  knowed  her  ever  since 
she  used  to  toddle  up  to  my  house  and  I  baked  cookies 
for  her.  I've  seen  her  many  a  time  feed  the  dog 
with  what  I  give  her,  just  because  she  said  he 
looked  hungry,  which  there  warn't  a  mite  o'  truth 
in,  for  there  ain't  nothin'  goes  hungry  round  my 
place,  and  never  was.  She's  queer,  I  tell  ye." 

"  Quite  true,  dear  Mrs.  Pokeberry,"  remarked 
Pastor  Dellenbaugh  in  his  gentlest  tone — he  had 

151 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

heard  the  discussion  as  he  was  passing  through  the 
room  and  had  stopped  to  listen — "  especially  when 
mercy  and  kindness  is  to  be  shown.  Some  poor  little 
outcast,  no  doubt,  with  no  one  to  take  care  of  it,  and 
so  this  grand  wroman  brings  it  home  to  nurse  and 
educate.  I  wish  there  were  more  Jane  Cobdens  in 
my  parish.  Many  of  you  talk  good  deeds,  and  jus 
tice,  and  Christian  spirit ;  here  is  a  woman  who  puts 
them  into  practice." 

This  statement  having  been  made  during  the  dis 
persal  of  a  Wednesday  night  meeting,  and  in  the  hear 
ing  of  half  the  congregation,  furnished  the  key  to  the 
mystery,  and  so  for  a  time  the  child  and  its  new 
found  mother  ceased  to  be  an  active  subject  of  dis 
cussion. 

Ann  Gossaway,  however,  was  not  satisfied.  The 
more  she  thought  of  the  pastor's  explanation  the 
more  she  resented  it  as  an  affront  to  her  intelligence. 

"  If  folks  wants  to  pick  up  stray  babies,"  she 
shouted  to  her  old  mother  on  her  return  home  one 
night,  "  and  bring  'em  home  to  nuss,  they  oughter 
label  'em  with  some  sort  o'  pedigree,  and  not  keep 
the  village  a-guessin'  as  to  who  they  is  and  where 
they  come  from.  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  this  out 
cast  yarn.  Guess  Miss  Lucy  is  all  right,  and  she 
knows  enough  to  stay  away  when  all  this  tomfoolery's 
goin'  on.  She  doesn't  want  to  come  back  to  a  child's 
nussery."  To  all  of  which  her  mother  nodded  her 

152 


THE    SPKEAD    OF    FIEE 

head,  keeping  it  going  like  a  toy  mandarin  long 
after  the  subject  of  discussion  had  been  changed. 

Little  by  little  the  scandal  spread:  by  innuendoes; 
by  the  wise  shakings  of  empty  heads;  by  nods  and 
winks;  by  the  piecing  out  of  incomplete  tattle.  For 
the  spread  of  gossip  is  like  the  spread  of  fire :  First  a 
smouldering  heat — some  friction  of  ill-feeling,  per 
haps,  over  a  secret  sin  that  cannot  be  smothered,  try 
as  we  may;  next  a  hot,  blistering  tongue  of  flame 
creeping  stealthily ;  then  a  burst  of  scorching  candor 
and  the  roar  that  ends  in  ruin.  Sometimes  the  victim 
is  saved  by  a  dash  of  honest  water — the  outspoken 
word  of  some  brave  friend.  More  often  those  who 
should  stamp  out  the  burning  brand  stand  idly  by 
until  the  final  collapse  and  then  warm  themselves  at 
the  blaze. 

Here  in  Warehold  it  began  with  some  whispered 
talk :  Bart  Holt  had  disappeared ;  there  was  a  woman 
in  the  case  somewhere ;  Bart's  exile  had  not  been  en 
tirely  caused  by  his  love  of  cards  and  drink.  Refer 
ence  was  also  made  to  the  fact  that  Jane  had  gone 
abroad  but  a  short  time  after  Bart's  disappearance, 
and  that  knowing  how  fond  she  was  of  him,  and  how 
she  had  tried  to  reform  him,  the  probability  was 
that  she  had  met  him  in  Paris.  Doubts  having  been 
expressed  that  no  woman  of  Jane  Cobden's  position 
would  go  to  any  such  lengths  to  oblige  so  young  a 
fellow  as  Bart  Holt,  the  details  of  their  intimacy 

153 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

were  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  when  this  was 
again  scouted,  reference  was  made  to  Miss  Gossaway, 
who  was  supposed  to  know  more  than  she  was  willing 
to  tell.  The  dressmaker  denied  all  responsibility  for 
the  story,  but  admitted  that  she  had  once  seen  them 
on  the  beach  "  settin'  as  close  together  as  they  could 
git,  with  the  red  cloak  she  had  made  for  Miss  Jane 
wound  about  'em. 

"  'Twarn't  none  o'  my  business,  and  I  told  Mar 
tha  so,  and  'tain't  none  o'  my  business  now,  but  I'd 
rather  die  than  tell  a  lie  or  scandalize  anybody,  and 
so  if  ye  ask  me  if  I  saw  'em  I'll  have  to  tell  ye  I  did. 
I  don't  believe,  howsomever,  that  Miss  Jane  went 
away  to  oblige  that  good-for-nothin'  or  that  she's  ever 
laid  eyes  on  him  since.  Lucy  is  what  took  her.  She's 
one  o'  them  flyaways.  I  see  that  when  she  was 
home,  and  there  warn't  no  peace  up  to  the  Cobdens' 
house  till  they'd  taken  her  somewheres  where  she 
could  git  all  the  runnin'  round  she  wanted.  As  for 
the  baby,  there  ain't  nobody  knows  where  Miss  Jane 
picked  that  up,  but  there  ain't  no  doubt  but  what 
she  loves  it  same's  if  it  was  her  own  child.  She's 
named  it  Archie,  after  her  grandfather,  anyhow. 
That's  what  Martha  and  she  calls  it.  So  they're  not 
ashamed  of  it." 

When  the  fire  had  spent  itself,  only  one  spot  re 
mained  unscorched:  this  was  the  parentage  of  little 
Archie.  That  mystery  still  remained  unsolved. 

154 


THE    SPREAD    OF   FIRE 

Those  of  her  own  class  who  knew  Jane  intimately 
admired  her  kindness  of  heart  and  respected  her 
silence;  those  who  did  not  soon  forgot  the  boy's 
existence. 

The  tavern  loungers,  however,  some  of  whom  only 
knew  the  Cobden  girls  by  reputation,  had  theories 
of  their  own;  theories  which  were  communicated  to 
other  loungers  around  other  tavern  stoves,  most  of 
whom  would  not  have  known  either  of  the  ladies 
on  the  street.  The  fact  that  both  women  belonged  to 
a  social  stratum  far  above  them  gave  additional  li 
cense  to  their  tongues ;  they  could  never  be  called  in 
question  by  anybody  who  overheard,  and  were  there 
fore  safe  to  discuss  the  situation  at  their  will.  Con 
densed  into  illogical  shape,  the  story  was  that  Jane 
had  met  a  foreigner  who  had  deserted  her,  leaving 
her  to  care  for  the  child  alone ;  that  Lucy  had  refused 
to  come  back  to  Warehold,  had  taken  what  money 
was  coming  to  her,  and,  like  a  sensible  woman,  had 
stayed  away.  That  there  was  not  the  slightest  foun 
dation  for  this  slander  did  not  lessen  its  acceptance 
by  a  certain  class ;  many  claimed  that  it  offered  the 
only  plausible  solution  to  the  mystery,  and  must, 
therefore,  be  true. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  echoes  of  these  scandals 
reached  Martha's  ears.  The  gossips  dare  not  affront 
Miss  Jane  with  their  suspicions,  but  Martha  was 
different.  If  they  could  irritate  her  by  speaking 

155 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

lightly  of  her  mistress,  she  might  give  out  some  in 
formation  which  would  solve  the  mystery. 

One  night  a  servant  of  one  of  the  neighbors  stopped 
Martha  on  the  road  and  sent  her  flying  home;  not 
angry,  but  terrified. 

"  They're  beginnin'  to  talk,"  she  broke  out  sav 
agely,  as  she  entered  Jane's  room,  her  breath  almost 
gone  from  her  run  to  the  house.  "  I  laughed  at  it 
and  said  they  dare  not  one  of  'em  say  it  to  your 
face  or  mine,  but  they're  beginnin'  to  talk." 

"  Is  it  about  Barton  Holt  ?  have  they  heard  any 
thing  from  him  ?  "  asked  Jane.  The  fear  of  his 
return  had  always  haunted  her. 

"  No,  and  they  won't.  He'll  never  come  back  here 
ag'in.  The  captain  would  kill  him." 

"  It  isn't  about  Lucy,  then,  is  it  ?  "  cried  Jane, 
her  color  going. 

Martha  shook  her  head  in  answer  to  save  her 
breath. 

"  Who,  then  ?  "  cried  Jane,  nervously.  "  Not 
Archie  3  " 

"  Yes,  Archie  and  you." 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  "  asked  Jane,  her  voice  fallen 
to  a  whisper. 

"  They  say  it's  your  child,  and  that  ye're  afraid  to 
tell  who  the  father  is." 

Jane  caught  at  the  chair  for  support  and  then  sank 
slowly  into  her  seat. 

156 


THE    SPKEAD    OE   EIEE 

"  Who  says  so  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Nobody  that  you  or  I  know ;  some  of  the  beach 
combers  and  hide-by-nights,  I  think,  started  it. 
Pokeberry's  girl  told  me;  her  brother  works  in  the 
shipyard.7' 

Jane  sat  looking  at  Martha  with  staring  eyes. 

"  How  dare  they " 

"  They  dare  do  anything,  and  we  can't  answer 
back.  That's  what's  goin'  to  make  it  hard.  It's 
nobody's  business,  but  that  don't  satisfy  'em.  I've 
been  through  it  meself;  I  know  how  mean  they 
can  be." 

"  They  shall  never  know — not  while  I  have  life 
left  in  me,"  Jane  exclaimed  firmly. 

"  Yes,  but  that  won't  keep  'em  from  lyin'." 

The  two  sat  still  for  some  minutes,  Martha  gaz 
ing  into  vacancy,  Jane  lying  back  in  her  chair,  her 
eyes  closed.  One  emotion  after  another  coursed 
through  her  with  lightning  rapidity — indignation 
at  the  charge,  horror  at  the  thought  that  any  of  her 
friends  might  believe  it,  followed  by  a  shivering  fear 
that  her  father's  good  name,  for  all  her  care  and 
suffering,  might  be  smirched  at  last. 

Suddenly  there  arose  the  tall  image  of  Doctor 
John,  with  his  frank,  tender  face.  What  would  he 
think  of  it,  and  how,  if  he  questioned  her,  could  she 
answer  him?  Then  there  came  to  her  that  day  of 
parting  in  Paris.  She  remembered  Lucy's  willing- 

157 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

to  give  up  the  child  forever,  and  so  cover  up  all 
traces  of  her  sin,  and  her  own  immediate  determina 
tion  to  risk  everything  for  her  sister's  sake.  As  this 
last  thought  welled  up  in  her  mind  and  she  recalled 
her  father's  dying  command,  her  brow  relaxed. 
Come  what  might,  she  was  doing  her  duty.  This  was 
her  solace  and  her  strength. 

"  Cruel,  cruel  people !  "  she  said  to  Martha,  re 
laxing  her  hands.  "  How  can  they  be  so  wicked  ? 
But  I  am  glad  it  is  I  who  must  take  the  brunt  of 
it  all.  If  they  would  treat  me  so,  who  am  innocent, 
what  would  they  do  to  my  poor  Lucy  ?  " 


168 


CHAPTEK   X 

A  LATE  VISITOB 

Tkese  rumors  never  reached  the  doctor.  No  scan 
dalmonger  ever  dared  talk  gossip  to  him.  When  he 
first  begam  to  practise  among  the  people  of  Warehold, 
and  some  garrulous  old  dame  would  seek  to  enrich 
his  visit  by  tittle-tattle  about  her  neighbors,  she  had 
never  tried  it  a  second  time.  Doctor  John  of  Barne- 
gat  either  received  the  news  in  silence  or  answered 
it  with  some  pleasantry;  even  Ann  Gossaway  held 
her  peace  whenever  the  doctor  had  to  be  called  in  to 
prescribe  for  her  oversensitive  throat. 

He  was  aware  that  Jane  had  laid  herself  open  to 
criticism  in  bringing  home  a  child  about  which  she 
had  made  no  explanation,  but  he  never  spoke  of  it  nor 
allowed  anyone  to  say  so  to  him.  He  would  have 
been  much  happier,  of  course,  if  she  had  given  him 
her  confidence  in  this  as  she  nad  in  many  other 
matters  affecting  her  life ;  but  he  accepted  her  silence 
as  part  of  her  whole  attitude  toward  him.  Knowing 
her  as  he  did,  he  was  convinced  that  her  sole  incen 
tive  was  one  of  loving  kindness,  both  for  the  child 

159 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT 

and  for  the  poor  mother  whose  sin  or  whose  poverty 
she  was  concealing.  In  this  connection,  he  remem 
bered  how  in  one  of  her  letters  to  Martha  she  had 
told  of  the  numberless  waifs  she  had  seen  and  how 
her  heart  ached  for  them ;  especially  in  the  hospitals 
which  she  had  visited  and  among  the  students.  He 
recalled  that  he  himself  had  had  many  similar  experi 
ences  in  his  Paris  days,  in  which  a  woman  like  Jane 
Cobden  would  have  been  a  veritable  angel  of  mercy. 

Mrs.  Cavendish's  ears  were  more  easily  approached 
by  the  gossips  of  Warehold  and  vicinity ;  then,  again 
she  was  always  curious  over  the  inmates  of  the  Cob- 
den  house,  and  any  little  scraps  of  news,  reliable  or 
not,  about  either  Jane  or  her  absent  sister  were 
eagerly  listened  to.  Finding  it  impossible  to  restrain 
herself  any  longer,  she  had  seized  the  opportunity 
one  evening  wrhen  she  and  her  son  were  sitting  to 
gether  in  the  salon,  a  rare  occurrence  for  the  doctor, 
and  only  possible  when  his  patients  were  on  the 
mend. 

"  I'm  sorry  Jane  Cobden  was  so  foolish  as  to 
bring  home  that  baby,"  she  began. 

"  Why  ?  "  said  the  doctor,  without  lifting  his  eyes 
from  the  book  he  was  reading. 

"  Oh,  she  lays  herself  open  to  criticism.  It  is, 
of  course,  but  one  of  her  eccentricities,  but  she  owes 
something  to  her  position  and  birth  and  should  not 
invite  unnecessary  comment." 

160 


A   LATE    VISITOR 

"  Who  criticises  her  ? "  asked  the  doctor,  his  eyes 
still  on  the  pages. 

"  Oh,  you  can't  tell ;  everybody  is  talking  about 
it.  Some  of  the  gossip  is  outrageous,  some  I  could 
not  even  repeat." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  answered  the  doctor 
quietly.  "  All  small  places  like  Warehold  and  Bar- 
negat  need  topics  of  conversation,  and  Miss  Jane 
for  the  moment  is  furnishing  one  of  them.  They 
utilize  you,  dear  mother,  and  me,  and  everybody 
else  in  the  same  way.  But  that  is  no  reason  why 
we  should  lend  our  ears  or  our  tongues  to  spread 
and  encourage  it." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  my  son,  and  I  told  the 
person  who  told  me  how  foolish  and  silly  it  was, 
but  they  will  talk,  no  matter  what  you  say  to  them." 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  "  asked  the  doctor,  laying 
down  his  book  and  rising  from  his  chair. 

"  Oh,  all  sorts  of  things.  One  rumor  is  that  Cap 
tain  Holt's  son,  Barton,  the  one  that  quarrelled  with 
his  father  and  who  went  to  sea,  could  tell  something 
of  the  child,  if  he  could  be  found." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "  He  can  be  found,"  he 
answered.  "  I  saw  his  father  only  last  week,  and 
he  told  me  Bart  was  in  Brazil.  That  is  some  thou 
sand  of  miles  from  Paris,  but  a  little  thing  like 
that  in  geography  doesn't  seem  to  make  much  differ 
ence  to  some  of  our  good  people.  Why  do  you  listen 

161 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

to  such  nonsense  ? "  he  added  as  he  kissed  her  ten 
derly  and,  with  a  pat  on  her  cheek,  left  the  room 
for  his  study.  His  mother's  talk  had  made  but  little 
impression  upon  him.  Gossip  of  this  kind  was  al 
ways  current  when  waifs  like  Archie  formed  the 
topic ;  but  it  hurt  nobody,  he  said  to  himself — nobody 
like  Jane. 

Sitting  under  his  study  lamp  looking  up  some  com 
plicated  case,  his  books  about  him,  Jiute's  sad  face 
came  before  him.  "  Has  she  not  had  trouble 
enough,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  parted  from  Lucy  and 
with  her  unsettled  money  affairs,  without  having  to 
face  these  gnats  whose  sting  she  cannot  ward  off  ?  " 
With  this  came  the  thought  of  his  own  helplessness 
to  comfort  her.  He  had  taken  her  at  her  word  that 
night  before  she  left  for  Paris,  when  she  had  refused 
to  give  him  her  promise  and  had  told  him  to  wait, 
and  he  was  still  ready  to  come  at  her  call;  loving 
her,  watching  ever  her,  absorbed  in  every  detail  of 
her  daily  life,  and  eager  to  grant  her  slightest  wish, 
and  yet  he  could  not  but  see  that  she  had,  since  her 
return,  surro  -  ded  herself  with  a  barrier  which  he 
could  neither  understand  nor  break  down  whenever 
he  touched  on  their  personal  relations. 

Had  he  loved  her  less  he  would,  in  justice  to  him 
self,  have  faced  all  her  opposition  and  demanded  an 
answer — Yes  or  No — as  to  whether  she  would  yield 
to  his  wishes.  But  his  generous  nature  forbade  any 

162 


A    LATE    VISITOE 

such  stand  and  his  reverence  for  her  precluded  any 
such  mental  attitude. 

Lifting  his  eyes  from  his  books  and  gazing  dream 
ily  into  the  space  before  him,  he  recalled,  with  a  cer 
tain  sinking  of  the  heart,  a  conversation  which  had 
taken  place  between  Jane  and  himself  a  few  days 
after  her  arrival — an  interview  which  had  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  him.  The  two,  in  the  absence 
of  Martha — she  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment- 
were  standing  beside  the  crib  watching  the  child's 
breathing.  Seizing  the  opportunity,  one  he  had 
watched  for,  he  had  told  her  how  much  he  had  missed 
her  during  the  two  years,  and  how  much  happier 
his  life  was  now  that  he  could  touch  her  hand  and 
listen  to  her  voice.  She  had  evaded  his  meaning, 
making  answer  that  his  pleasur*  was  nothing  com 
pared  to  her  own  when  she  th  ught  how  safe  the 
baby  would  be  in  his  hands ;  adding  quickly  that  she 
could  never  thank  him  enough  for  remaining  in  Bar- 
negat  and  not  leaving  her  helpless  and  without  a 
"  physician."  The  ton'  with  which  she  pronounced 
the  word  had  hurt  him.  He  thought  he  detected  a 
slight  inflection,  as  if  she  were  making  a  distinction 
between  his  skill  as  an  expert  and  his  love  as  a  man, 
but  he  was  not  sure. 

Still  gazing  into  the  shadows  before  him,  his  un 
read  book  in  his  hand,  he  recalled  a  later  occasion 
when  she  appeared  rather  to  shrink  from  him  than 

163 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKXEGAT 

to  wish  to  be  near  him,  speaking  to  him  with  down 
cast  eyes  and  without  the  frank  look  in  her  face 
which  was  always  his  welcome.  On  this  day  she  was 
more  unstrung  and  more  desolate  than  he  had  ever 
seen  her.  At  length,  emboldened  by  his  intense  de 
sire  to  help,  and  putting  aside  every  obstacle,  he  had 
taken  her  hand  and  had  said  with  all  his  heart  in 
his  voice : 

"  Jane,  you  onco  told  me  you  loved  me.  Is  it 
still  true  ?  " 

He  remembered  how  at  first  she  had  not  answered, 
and  how  after  a  moment  she  had  si  wly  withdrawn 
her  hand  and  had  replied  in  a  voice  almost  inarticu 
late,  so  great  was  her  emotion. 

"  Yes,  John,  and  always  will  be,  but  it  can  never 
go  beyond  that — never,  never.  Don't  ask  me  any 
more  questions.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  it.  ~Not 
now,  John — not  now!  Don't  hate  me!  Let  us  be 
as  we  have  always  been — please,  John !  You  would 
not  refuse  me  if  you  knew." 

He  had  started  forward  to  take  her  in  his  arms; 
to  insist  that  now  every  obstacle  was  removed  she 
should  give  him  at  once  the  lawful  right  to  protect 
her,  but  she  had  shrunk  back,  the  palms  of  her  hands 
held  out  as  barriers,  and  before  he  could  reason  with 
her  Martha  had  entered  with  something  for  little 
Archie,  and  so  the  interview  had  come  to  an  end. 

Then,  still  absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  his  eyes  sud- 
164 


A   LATE    VISITOR 

denly  brightened  and  a  certain  joy  trembled  in  his 
heart  as  he  remembered  that  with  all  these  misgiv 
ings  and  doubts  there  were  other  times — and  their 
sum  was  in  the  ascendency — when  she  showed  the 
same  confidence  in  his  judgement  and  the  same  readi 
ness  to  take  his  advice ;  when  the  old  light  would  once 
more  flash  in  her  eyes  as  she  grasped  his  hand  and 
the  old  sadness  again  shadow  her  face  when  his  visits 
came  to  an  end.  With  this  he  must  be  for  a  time 
content. 

These  and  a  hundred  other  thoughts  raced  through 
Doctor  John's  mind  as  he  sat  to-night  in  his  study 
chair,  the  lamplight  falling  on  his  open  books  and 
thin,  delicately  modelled  hands. 

Once  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  began  pacing  his 
study  floor,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  mind  on 
Jane,  on  her  curious  and  incomprehensible  moods, 
trying  to  solve  them  as  he  walked,  trusting  and  lean 
ing  upon  him  one  day  and  shrinking  from  him  the 
next.  Baffled  for  the  hundredth  time  in  this  mental 
search,  he  dropped  again  into  his  chair,  and  adjust 
ing  the  lamp,  pulled  his  books  toward  him  to  devote 
his  mind  to  their  contents.  As  the  light  flared  up 
he  caught  the  sound  of  a  step  upon  the  gravel  outside, 
and  then  a  heavy  tread  upon  the  porch.  An  instant 
later  his  knocker  sounded.  Doctor  Cavendish  gave 
a  sigh — he  had  hoped  to  have  one  night  at  home — 
and  rose  to  open  the  door. 

165 


•  THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Captain  Nat  Holt  stood  outside. 

His  pea-jacket  was  buttoned  close  up  under  his 
chin,  his  hat  drawn  tight  down  over  his  forehead. 
His  weather-beaten  face,  as  the  light  fell  upon  it, 
looked  cracked  and  drawn,  with  dark  hollows  under 
the  eyes,  which  the  shadows  from  the  lamplight 
deepened. 

"  It's  late,  I  know,  doctor,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse, 
strained  voice ;  "  ten  o'clock,  maybe,  but  I  got  some- 
thin'  to  talk  to  ye  about,"  and  he  strode  into  the 
room.  "  Alone,  are  ye  ?  "  he  continued,  as  he  loos 
ened  his  coat  and  laid  his  hat  on  the  desk.  "  Where's 
the  good  mother  ?  Home,  is  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she's  inside,"  answered  the  doctor,  pointing 
to  the  open  door  leading  to  the  salon  and  grasping 
the  captain's  brawny  hand  in  welcome.  "  Why  ?  Do 
you  want  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to  see  her ;  don't  want  to  see 
nobody  but  you.  She  can't  hear,  can  she?  'Scuse 
me — I'll  close  this  door." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  curiously.  The  captain 
seemed  to  be  laboring  under  a  nervous  strain,  unusual 
in  one  so  stolid  and  self-possessed. 

The  door  closed,  the  captain  moved  back  a  cushion, 
dropped  into  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  and  sat  looking 
at  the  doctor,  with  legs  apart,  his  open  palms  resting 
on  his  knees. 

"  I  got  bad  news,  doctor — awful  bad  news  for 
166 


A   LATE    VISITOR 

everybody/7  as  lie  spoke  lie  reached  into  his  pocket 
and  produced  a  letter  with  a  foreign  postmark. 

"  You  remember  my  son  Bart,  of  course,  don't  ye, 
who  left  home  some  two  years  ago  ?  "  he  went  on. 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  Well,  he's  dead." 

"  Your  son  Bart  dead !  "  cried  the  doctor,  repeat 
ing  his  name  in  the  surprise  of  the  announcement. 
"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  This  letter  came  by  to-day's  mail.  It's  from  the 
consul  at  Rio.  Bart  come  in  to  see  him  dead  broke 
and  he  helped  him  out.  He'd  run  away  from  the 
ship  and  was  goin'  up  into  the  mines  to  work,  so  the 
consul  wrote  me.  He  was  in  once  after  that  and  got 
a  little  money,  and  then  he  got  down  with  yellow 
fever  and  they  took  him  to  the  hospital,  and  he  died 
in  three  days.  There  ain't  no  doubt  about  it.  Here's 
a  list  of  the  dead  in  the  paper ;  you  kin  read  his  name 
plain  as  print." 

Doctor  John  reached  for  the  letter  and  newspaper 
clipping  and  turned  them  toward  the  lamp.  The 
envelope  was  stamped  "  Rio  Janeiro  "  and  the  letter 
bore  the  official  heading  of  the  consulate. 

"  That's  dreadful,  dreadful  news,  captain,"  said 
the  doctor  in  sympathetic  tones.  "  Poor  boy !  it's 
too  bad.  Perhaps,  however,  there  may  be  some  mis 
take,  after  all.  Foreign  hospital  registers  are  not 
always  reliable,"  added  the  doctor  in  a  hopeful  tone. 

167 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  No,  it's  all  true,  or  Benham  wouldn't  write  me 
what  lie  has.  I've  known  him  for  years.  He  knows 
me,  too,  and  he  don't  go  off  half-cocked.  I  wrote 
him  to  look  after  Bart  and  sent  him  some  money 
and  give  him  the  name  of  the  ship,  and  he  watched 
for  her  and  sent  for  him  all  right.  I  was  pretty 
nigh  crazy  that  night  he  left,  and  handled  him, 
maybe,  rougher'n  I  ou'ter,  but  I  couldn't  help  it. 
There's  some  things  I  can't  stand,  and  what  he  done 
was  one  of  'em.  It  all  comes  back  to  me  now,  but 
I'd  do  it  ag'in."  As  he  spoke  the  rough,  hard 
sailor  leaned  forward  and  rested  his  chin  on  his 
hand.  The  news  had  evidently  been  a  great  shock 
to  him. 

The  doctor  reached  over  and  laid  his  hand  on  the 
captain's  knee.  "  I'm  very,  very  sorry,  captain,  for 
you  and  for  Bart;  and  the  only  son  you  have,  is 
it  not?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  only  child  we  ever  had.  That 
makes  it  worse.  Thank  God,  his  mother's  dead! 
All  this  would  have  broken  her  heart."  For  a  mo 
ment  the  two  men  were  silent,  then  the  captain  con 
tinued  in  a  tone  as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself,  his 
eyes  on  the  lamp: 

"  But  I  couldn't  have  lived  with  him  after  that, 
and  I  told  him  so — not  till  he  acted  fair  and  square, 
like  a  man.  I  hoped  he  would  some  day,  but  that's 


168 


A   LATE   .VISITOR 

"  We're  none  of  us  bad  all  the  way  through,  cap 
tain,"  reasoned  the  doctor,  "  and  don't  you  think  of 
him  in  that  way.  He  would  have  come  to  himself 
some  day  and  been  a  comfort  to  you.  I  didn't  know 
him  as  well  as  I  might,  and  only  as  I  met  him  at 
Yardley,  but  he  must  have  had  a  great  many  fine 
qualities  or  the  Cobdens  wouldn't  have  liked  him. 
Miss  Jane  used  often  to  talk  to  me  about  him.  She 
always  believed  in  him.  She  will  be  greatly  dis 
tressed  over  this  news." 

"  That's  what  brings  me  here.  I  want  you  to  tell 
her,  and  not  me.  I'm  afraid  it  '11  git  out  and  she'll 
hear  it,  and  then  she'll  be  worse  off  than  she  is  now. 
Maybe  it's  best  to  say  nothin'  'bout  it  to  nobody  and 
let  it  go.  There  ain't  no  one  but  me  to  grieve  for 
him,  and  they  don't  send  no  bodies  home,  not  from 
Rio,  nor  nowheres  along  that  coast.  Maybe,  too,  it 
ain't  the  time  to  say  it  to  her.  I  was  up  there  last 
week  to  see  the  baby,  and  she  looked  thinner  and 
paler  than  I  ever  see  her.  I  didn't  know  what  to 
do,  so  I  says  to  myself,  (  There's  Doctor  John,  he's 
at  her  house  reg'lar  and  knows  the  ins  and  outs  of 
her,  and  I'll  go  and  tell  him  'bout  it  and  ask  his 
advice.'  I'd  rather  cut  my  hand  off  than  hurt  her, 
for  if  there's  an  angel  on  earth  she's  one.  She  shakes 
so  when  I  mention  Bart's  name  and  gits  so  flustered, 
that's  why  I  dar'n't  tell  her.  Now  he's  dead  there 
won't  be  nobody  to  do  right  by  Archie.  I  can't; 

169 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

I'm  all  muzzled  up  tight.  She  made  me  take  an  oath, 
same  as  she  has  you,  and  I  ain't  goin'  to  break  it  any 
more'n  you  would.  The  little  feller  '11  have  to  git 
'long  best  way  he  kin  now." 

Doctor  John  bent  forward  in  his  chair  and  looked 
at  the  captain  curiously.  His  words  conveyed  no 
meaning  to  him.  For  an  instant  he  thought  that  the 
shock  of  his  son's  death  had  unsettled  the  man's 
mind. 

"  Take  an  oath !     What  for  ?  " 

"  'Bout  Archie  and  herself." 

"  But  I've  taken  no  oath !  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  isn't  your  habit ;  it  ain't  some 
men's.  I  did." 

"  What  about  ?  " 

It  was  the  captain's  turn  now  to  look  searchingly 
into  his  companion's  face.  The  doctor's  back  was 
toward  the  lamp,  throwing  his  face  into  shadow,  but 
the  captain  could  read  its  expression  plainly. 

"  You  mean  to  tell  me,  doctor,  you  don't  know 
what's  goin'  on  up  at  Yardley?  You  do,  of  course, 
but  you  won't  say — that's  like  you  doctors !  " 

"  Yes,  everything.  But  what  has  your  son  Bart 
got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Got  to  do  with  it !  Ain't  Jane  Cobden  motherin' 
his  child?" 

The  doctor  lunged  forward  in  his  seat,  his  eyes 
staring  straight  at  the  captain.  Had  the  old  sailor 

170 


A   LATE    VISITOK 

struck  him  in  the  face  he  could  not  have  been  more 
astounded. 

"  His  child !  "  he  cried  savagely. 

"  Certainly !  Whose  else  is  it  ?  You  knew, 
didn't  ye  ? " 

The  doctor  settled  back  in  his  chair  with  the  move 
ment  of  an  ox  felled  by  a  sudden  blow.  With  the 
appalling  news  there  rang  in  his  ears  the  tones  of  his 
mother's  voice  retailing  the  gossip  of  the  village. 
This,  then,  was  what  she  could  not  repeat. 

After  a  moment  he  raised  his  head  and  asked  in  a 
low,  firm  voice : 

"  Did  Bart  go  to  Paris  after  he  left  here  ? " 

"  No,  of  course  not !  Went  'board  the  Corsair 
bound  for  Rio,  and  has  been  there  ever  since.  I  told 
you  that  before.  There  weren't  no  necessity  for  her 
to  meet  him  in  Paris." 

The  doctor  sprang  from  his  chair  and  with  eyes 
blazing  and  fists  tightly  clenched,  stood  over  the 
captain. 

"  And  you  dare  to  sit  there  and  tell  me  that  Miss 
Jane  Cobden  is  that  child's  mother  ? " 

The  captain  struggled  to  his  feet,  his  open  hands 
held  up  to  the  doctor  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  Miss  Jane !  No,  by  God !  No !  Are  you  crazy  ? 
Sit  down,  sit  down,  I  tell  ye !  " 

"Who,  then?    Speak!" 

"  Lucy !  That's  what  I  drove  Bart  out  for.  Mort 
171 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

Cobden's  daughter — Mort,  mind  ye,  that  was  a 
brother  to  me  since  I  was  a  boy!  Jane  that  child's 
mother!  Yes,  all  the  mother  poor  Archie's  got! 
Ask  Miss  Jane,  she'll  tell  ye.  Tell  ye  how  she  sits 
and  eats  her  heart  out  to  save  her  sister  that's  too 
scared  to  come  home.  I  want  to  cut  my  tongue  out 
for  tellin'  ye,  but  I  thought  ye  knew.  Martha  told 
me  you  loved  her  and  that  she  loved  you,  and  I 
thought  she'd  told  ye.  Jane  Cobden  crooked!  ~No 
more'n  the  angels  are.  Now,  will  you  tell  her  Bart's 
dead,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  her,"   answered  the  doctor  firmly, 
"  and  to-night." 


172 


The  doctor  stood  over  the  captain  with  eyes  blazing  and  fists  tightly  clenched. 


CHAPTER   XI 
MOETOX  COBDEN'S.  DAUGHTER 

The  cold  wind  from  the  sea  freighted  with  the 
raw  mist  churned  by  the  breakers  cut  sharply  against 
Doctor  John's  cheeks  as  he  sprang  into  his  gig  and 
dashed  out  of  his  gate  toward  Yardley.  Under  the 
shadow  of  the  sombre  pines,  along  the  ribbon  of  a 
road,  dull  gray  in  the  light  of  the  stars,  and  out  on 
the  broader  highway  leading  to  Warehold,  the  sharp 
click  of  the  mare's  hoofs  striking  the  hard  road 
echoed  through  the  night.  The  neighbors  recognized 
the  tread  and  the  speed,  and  Uncle  Ephraim  threw 
up  a  window  to  know  whether  it  was  a  case  of  life  or 
death,  an  accident,  or  both;  but  the  doctor  only 
nodded  and  sped  on.  It  was  life  and  death — life  for 
the  woman  he  loved,  death  for  all  who  traduced  her. 
The  strange  news  that  had  dropped  from  the  cap 
tain's  lips  did  not  affect  him  except  as  would  the 
ending  of  any  young  life ;  neither  was  there  any  bit 
terness  in  his  heart  against  the  dead  boy  who  had 
wrecked  Lucy's  career  and  brought  Jane  humiliation 
and  despair.  All  he  thought  of  was  the  injustice 
of  Jane's  sufferings.  Added  to  this  was  an  over- 

173 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

powering  desire  to  reach  her  side  before  her  misery 
should  continue  another  moment;  to  fold  her  in  his 
arms,  stand  between  her  and  the  world;  help  her 
to  grapple  with  the  horror  which  was  slowly  crush 
ing  out  her  life.  That  it  was  past  her  hour  for  retir 
ing,  and  that  there  might  be  no  one  to  answer  his 
summons,  made  no  difference  to  him.  He  must  see 
her  at  all  hazards  before  he  closed  his  eyes. 

As  he  whirled  into  the  open  gates  of  Yardley  and 
peered  from  under  the  hood  of  the  gig  at  the  outlines 
of  the  old  house,  looming  dimly  through  the  avenue 
of  bushes,  he  saw  that  the  occupants  were  asleep ;  no 
lights  shone  from  the  upper  windows  and  none 
burned  in  the  hall  below.  This  discovery  checked  to 
some  extent  the  imp  tus  with  which  he  had  flung 
himself  into  the  night,  his  whole  being  absorbed  and 
dominated  by  one  idea.  The  cool  wind,  too,  had 
begun  to  tell  upon  his  nerves.  He  drew  rein  on  the 
mare  and  stopped.  For  the  first  time  since  the  cap 
tain's  story  had  reached  his  ears  his  reason  began  to 
work.  He  was  never  an  impetuous  man;  always  a 
thoughtful  and  methodical  one,  and  always  over 
particular  in  respecting  the  courtesies  of  life.  He 
began  suddenly  to  realize  that  this  midnight  visit 
was  at  variance  with  every  act  of  his  life.  Then 
his  better  judgment  became  aroused.  Was  it  right 
for  him  to  wake  Jane  and  disturb  the  house  at  this 
hour,  causing  her,  perhaps,  a  sleepless  night,  or 

174 


MORTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTER 

should  he  wait  until  the  morning,  when  he  could 
break  the  news  to  her  in  a  more  gentle  and  less  sen- 
sensational  way? 

While  he  sat  thus  wondering,  undetermined 
whether  to  drive  lightly  out  of  the  gate  again  or  to 
push  forward  in  the  hope  that  someone  would  be 
awake,  his  mind  unconsciously  reverted  to  the  figure 
of  Jane  making  her  way  with  weary  steps  down  the 
gangplank  of  the  steamer,  the  two  years  of  her  suffer 
ing  deep  cut  into  every  line  of  her  face.  He  recalled 
the  shock  her  appearance  had  given  him,  and  his  per 
plexity  over  the  cause.  He  remembered  her  refusal 
to  give  him  her  promise,  her  begging  him  to  wait, 
her  unaccountable  moods  since  her  return. 

Then  Lucy's  face  came  before  him,  her  whole 
career,  in  fact  (in  a  flash,  as  a  drowning  man's  life 
is  pictured),  from  the  first  night  after  her  return 
from  school  until  he  had  bade  her  good-by  to  take 
the  train  for  Trenton.  Little  scraps  of  talk  sounded 
in  his  ears,  and  certain  expressions  about  the  corners 
of  her  eyes  revealed  themselves  to  his  memory.  He 
thought  of  her  selfishness,  of  her  love  of  pleasure,  of 
her  disregard  of  Jane's  wishes,  of  her  recklessness. 

Everything  was  clear  now. 

"  What  a  fool  I  have  been !  "  he  said  to  himself. 
"  What  a  fool — fool!  I  ought  to  have  known!  " 

Next  the  magnitude  of  the  atonement,  and  the 
cruelty  and  cowardice  of  the  woman  who  had  put 

175 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

her  sister  into  so  false  a  position  swept  over  him. 
Then  there  arose,  like  the  dawning  of  a  light,  the 
grand  figure  of  the  woman  he  loved,  standing  clear 
of  all  entanglements,  a  Madonna  among  the  saints, 
more  precious  than  ever  in  the  radiance  of  her  own 
sacrifice. 

With  this  last  vision  his  mind  was  made  up.  No, 
he  would  not  wait  a  moment.  Once  this  terrible 
secret  out  of  the  way,  Jane  would  regain  her  old 
self  and  they  two  fight  the  world  together. 

As  he  loosened  the  reins  over  the  sorrel  a  light 
suddenly  flashed  from  one  of  the  upper  windows, 
disappeared  for  a  moment,  and  reappeared  again  at 
one  of  the  smaller  openings  near  the  front  steps.  He 
drew  rein  again.  Someone  was  moving  about — who 
he  did  not  know;  perhaps  Jane,  perhaps  one  of  the 
servants.  Tying  the  lines  to  the  dashboard,  he 
sprang  from  the  gig,  tethered  the  mare  to  one  of  the 
lilac  bushes,  and  walked  briskly  toward  the  house. 
As  he  neared  the  steps  the  door  was  opened  and 
Martha's  voice  rang  clear: 

"  Meg,  you  rascal,  come  in,  or  shall  I  let  ye  stay 
out  and  freeze  ?  " 

Doctor  John  stepped  upon  the  porch,  the  light  of 
Martha's  candle  falling  on  his  face  and  figure. 

"  It's  I,  Martha,  don't  be  frightened ;  it's  late,  I 
know,  but  I  hoped  Miss  Jane  would  be  up.  Has 
she  gone  to  bed  ? " 

176 


MOKTOST  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTEK 

The  old  nurse  started  back.  "  Lord,  how  ye 
skeered  me!  I  don't  know  whether  she's  asleep  or 
not.  She's  upstairs  with  Archie,  anyhow.  I  come 
out  after  this  rapscallion  that  makes  me  look  him  up 
every  night.  I've  talked  to  him  till  I'm  sore,  and 
he's  promised  me  a  dozen  times,  and  here  he  is  out 
ag'in.  Here !  Where  are  ye  ?  In  with  ye,  ye  little 
beast !  "  The  dog  shrank  past  her  and  darted  into 
the  hall.  "  Now,  then,  doctor,  come  in  out  of  the 
cold." 

Doctor  John  stepped  softly  inside  and  stood  in  the 
flare  of  the  candle-light.  He  felt  that  he  must  give 
some  reason  for  his  appearance  at  this  late  hour, 
even  if  he  did  not  see  Jane.  It  would  be  just  as  well, 
therefore,  to  tell  Martha  of  Bart's  death  at  once,  and 
not  let  her  hear  it,  as  she  was  sure  to  do,  from  some 
one  on  the  street.  Then  again,  he  had  kept  few 
secrets  from  her  where  Jane  was  concerned;  she 
had  helped  him  many  times  before,  and  her  advice 
was  always  good.  He  knew  that  she  was  familiar 
with  every  detail  of  the  captain's  story,  but  he  did 
not  propose  to  discuss  Lucy's  share  in  it  with  the  old 
nurse.  That  he  would  reserve  for  Jane's  ears 
alone. 

"  Bring  your  candle  into  the  sitting-room,  Mar 
tha;  I  have  something  to  tell  you,"  he  said  gravely, 
loosening  the  cape  of  his  overcoat  and  laying  his  hat 
on  the  hall  table. 

177 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

The  nurse  followed.  The  measured  tones  of  the 
doctor's  voice,  so  unlike  his  cheery  greetings,  espe 
cially  to  her,  unnerved  her.  This,  in  connection  with 
the  suppressed  excitement  under  which  he  seemed  to 
labor  and  the  late  hour  of  his  visit,  at  once  convinced 
her  that  something  serious  had  happened. 

"  Is  there  anything  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked  in  a 
trembling  voice. 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  it  about  Lucy  ?  There  ain't  nothin'  gone 
wrong  with  her,  doctor  dear,  is  there  ? " 

"  ~No,  it  is  not  about  Lucy.  It's  about  Barton 
Holt." 

"  Ye  don't  tell  me !     Is  he  come  back  ?  " 

"  No,  nor  never  will.     He's  dead !  " 

"  That  villain  dead !  £Low  do  you  know  ?  "  Her 
face  paled  and  her  lips  quivered,  but  she  gave  no 
other  sign  of  the  shock  the  news  had  been  to  her. 

"  Captain  !Nat,  his  father,  has  just  left  my  office. 
I  promised  I  would  tell  Miss  Jane  to-night.  He 
was  too  much  broken  up  and  too  fearful  of  its  effect 
upon  her  to  do  it  himself.  I  drove  fast,  but  perhaps 
I'm  too  late  to  see  her." 

"  Well,  ye  could  see  her  no  doubt, — she  could 
throw  somethin'  around  her — but  ye  mustn't  tell  her 
that  news.  She's  been  downhearted  all  day  and  is 
tired  out.  Bart's  dead,  is  he  ?  "  she  repeated  with 
an  effort  at  indifference.  "  Well,  that's  too  bad.  I 

178 


MORTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTER 

s'pose  the  captain's  feelin'  purty  bad  over  it.  Where 
did  he  die?" 

"  He  died  in  Rio  Janeiro  of  yellow  fever,"  said 
the  doctor  slowly,  wondering  at  the  self-control  of 
the  woman.  Wondering,  too,  whether  she  was  glad 
or  sorry  over  the  event,  her  face  and  manner  showing 
no  index  to  her  feelings. 

"  And  will  he  be  brought  home  to  be  buried  ?  "  she 
asked  with  a  quick  glance  at  the  doctor's  face. 

"  No ;  they  never  bring  them  home  with  yellow 
fever." 

"  And  is  that  all  ye  come  to  tell  her  ?  "  She  was 
scrutinizing  Doctor  John's  face,  her  quick,  nervous 
glances  revealing  both  suspicion  and  fear. 

"  I  had  some  other  matters  to  talk  about,  but  if 
she  has  retired,  perhaps  I  had  better  come  to 
morrow,"  answered  the  doctor  in  undecided  tones, 
as  he  gazed  abstractedly  at  the  nickering  candle. 

The  old  woman  hesitated.  She  saw  that  the  doc 
tor  knew  more  than  he  intended  to  tell  her.  Her 
curiosity  and  her  fear  that  some  other  complication 
had  arisen — one  which  he  was  holding  back — got 
the  better  of  her  judgment.  If  it  was  anything  about 
her  bairn,  she  could  not  wait  until  the  morning. 
She  had  forgotten  Meg  now. 

"  Well,  maybe  if  ye  break  it  to  her  easy-like  she 
can  stand  it.  I  don't  suppose  she's  gone  to  bed  yet. 
Her  door  was  open  on  a  crack  when  I  come  down, 

179 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

and  she  always  shuts  it  'fore  she  goes  to  sleep.  I'll 
light  a  couple  o'  lamps  so  ye  can  see,  and  then  I'll 
send  her  down  to  ye  if  she'll  come.  Wait  here, 
doctor,  dear." 

The  lamps  lighted  and  Martha  gone,  Doctor  John 
looked  about  the  room,  his  glance  resting  on  the 
sofa  where  he  had  so  often  sat  with  her ;  on  the  por 
trait  of  Morton  Cobden,  the  captain's  friend;  on 
the  work-basket  filled  with  needlework  that  Jane 
had  left  on  a  small  table  beside  her  chair,  and  upon 
the  books  her  hands  had  touched.  He  thought  he 
had  never  loved  her  so  much  as  now.  !N~o  one  he 
had  ever  known  or  heard  of  had  made  so  great  a 
sacrifice.  Not  for  herself  this  immolation,  but  for  a 
sister  who  had  betrayed  her  confidence  and  who  had 
repaid  a  life's  devotion  with  unforgivable  humili 
ation  and  disgrace.  This  was  the  woman  whose 
heart  he  held.  This  was  the  woman  he  loved  with 
every  fibre  of  his  being.  But  her  sufferings  were 
over  now.  He  was  ready  to  face  the  world  and  its 
malignity  beside  her.  Whatever  sins  her  sister  had 
committed,  and  however  soiled  were  Lucy's  gar 
ments,  Jane's  robes  were  as  white  as  snow.  He  was 
glad  he  had  yielded  to  the  impulse  and  had  come  at 
once.  The  barrier  between  them  once  broken  down 
and  the  terrible  secret  shared,  her  troubles  would 
end. 

The  whispering  of  her  skirts  on  the  stairs  an- 
180 


MORTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTER 

nounced  her  coming  before  she  entered  the  room. 
She  had  been  sitting  by  Archie's  crib  and  had  not 
waited  to  change  her  loose  white  gown,  whose  cling 
ing  folds  accentuated  her  frail,  delicate  form.  Her 
hair  had  been  caught  up  hastily  and  hung  in  a  dark 
mass,  concealing  her  small,  pale  ears  and  making 
her  face  all  the  whiter  by  contrast. 

"  Something  alarming  has  brought  you  at  this 
hour,"  she  said,  with  a  note  of  anxiety  in  her  voice, 
walking  rapidly  toward  him.  "  What  can  I  do  ? 
Who  is  ill?" 

Doctor  John  sprang  forward,  held  out  both  hands, 
and  holding  tight  to  her  own,  drew  her  close  to  him. 

"  Has  Martha  told  you  ?  "  he  said  tenderly. 

"  No ;  only  that  you  wanted  me.  I  came  as  soon 
as  I  could." 

"  It's  about  Barton  Holt.  His  father  has  just 
left  my  office.  I  have  very  sad  news  for  you.  The 
poor  boy " 

Jane  loosened  her  hands  from  his  and  drew  back. 
The  doctor  paused  in  his  recital. 

"  Is  he  ill  ? "  she  inquired,  a  slight  shiver  run 
ning  through  her. 

"  Worse  than  ill !  I'm  afraid  you'll  never  see 
him  again." 

"  You  mean  that  he  is  dead  ?    Where  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dead,  in  Rio.  The  letter  arrived  this 
morning." 

181 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABXEGAT 

"  And  you  came  all  the  way  up  here  to  tell  me 
this  ?  "  she  asked,  with  an  effort  to  hide  her  aston 
ishment.  Her  eyes  dropped  for  a  moment  and  her 
voice  trembled.  Then  she  went  on.  "  What  does 
his  father  say  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  left  him.  He  is  greatly  shaken. 
He  would  not  tell  you  himself,  he  sai,d ;  he  was  afraid 
it  might  shock  you  too  much,  and  asked  me  to  come 
up.  But  it  is  not  altogether  that,  Jane.  I  have 
heard  something  to-night  that  has  driven  me  half 
out  of  my  mind.  That  you  should  suffer  this  way 
alone  is  torture  to  me.  You  cannot,  you  shall  not 
live  another  day  as  you  have !  Let  me  help !  " 

Instantly  there  flashed  into  her  mind  the  story 
Martha  had  brought  in  from  the  street.  "  He  has 
heard  it,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but  he  does  not  be 
lieve  it,  and  he  comes  to  comfort  me.  I  cannot  tell 
the  truth  without  betraying  Lucy." 

She  drew  a  step  farther  from  him. 

"  You  refer  to  what  the  people  about  us  call  a 
mystery — that  poor  little  child  upstairs  ?  "  she  said 
slowly,  all  her  self-control  in  her  voice.  "  You  think 
it  is  a  torture  for  me  to  care  for  this  helpless  baby  ? 
It  is  not  a  torture;  it  is  a  joy — all  the  joy  I  have 
now."  She  stood  looking  at  him  as  she  spoke  with 
searching  eyes,  wondering  with  the  ever-questioning 
doubt  of  those  denied  love's  full  expression. 

"  But  I  know " 

182 


MORTON    COBDE^'S    DAUGHTER 

"  You  know  nothing — nothing  but  what  I  have 
told  you;  and  what  I  have  told  you  is  the  truth. 
What  I  have  not  told  you  is  mine  to  keep.  You  love 
me  too  well  to  probe  it  any  further.  I  am  sorry  for 
the  captain.  He  has  an  iron  will  and  a  rough  exte 
rior,  but  he  has  a  warm  heart  underneath.  If  you 
see  him  before  I  do  give  him  my  deepest  sympathy. 
]STow,  my  dear  friend,  I  must  go  back  to  Archie ;  he 
is  restless  and  needs  me.  Good-night,"  and  she  held 
out  her  hand  and  passed  out  of  the  room. 

She  was  gone  before  he  could  stop  her.  He  started 
forward  as  her  hand  touched  the  door,  but  she  closed 
it  quickly  behind  her,  as  if  to  leave  no  doubt  of  her 
meaning.  He  saw  that  she  had  misunderstood  him. 
He  had  intended  to  talk  to  her  of  Archie's  father, 
and  of  Lucy,  and  she  had  supposed  he  had  only  come 
to  comfort  her  about  the  village  gossip. 

For  some  minutes  he  stood  like  one  dazed.  Then 
a  feeling  of  unspeakable  reverence  stole  over  him. 
ISTot  only  was  she  determined  to  suffer  alone  and  in 
silence,  but  she  would  guard  her  sister's  secret  at 
the  cost  of  her  own  happiness.  Inside  that  sacred 
precinct  he  knew  he  could  never  enter;  that  wine 
press  she  intended  to  tread  alone. 

Then  a  sudden  indignation,  followed  by  a  contempt 
of  his  own  weakness  took  possession  of  him.  Being 
the  older  and  stronger  nature,  he  should  have  com 
pelled  her  to  listen.  The  physician  as  well  as  the 

183 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

friend  should  have  asserted  himself.  ISTo  woman 
could  be  well  balanced  who  would  push  away  the  hand 
of  a  man  held  out  to  save  her  from  ruin  and  misery. 
He  would  send  Martha  for  her  again  and  insist  upon 
her  listening  to  him. 

He  started  for  the  door  and  stopped  irresolute.  A 
new  light  broke  in  upon  his  heart.  It  was  not  against 
himself  and  her  own  happiness  that  she  had  taken 
this  stand,  but  to  save  her  father's  and  her  sister's 
name.  He  knew  how  strong  was  her  devotion  to  her 
duty,  how  blind  her  love  for  Lucy,  how  sacred  she 
held  the  trust  given  to  her  by  her  dead  father.  ~No ; 
she  was  neither  obstinate  nor  quixotic.  Hers  was  the 
work  of  a  martyr,  not  a  fanatic.  No  one  he  had  ever 
known  or  heard  of  had  borne  so  great  a  cross  or  made 
so  noble  a  sacrifice.  It  was  like  the  deed  of  some 
grand  old  saint,  the  light  of  whose  glory  had  shone 
down  the  ages.  He  was  wrong,  cruelly  wrong.  The 
only  thing  left  for  him  to  do  was  to  wait.  For  what 
he  could  not  tell.  Perhaps  God  in  his  mercy  would 
one  day  find  the  way. 

Martha's  kindly  voice  as  she  opened  the  door  awoke 
him  from  his  revery. 

"  Did  she  take  it  bad  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  replied  aimlessly,  without  thinking  of 
what  he  said.  "  She  sent  a  message  to  the  captain. 
I'll  go  now.  No,  please  don't  bring  a  light  to  the 
door.  The  mare's  only  a  short  way  down  the  road." 

184 


MOBTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTEK 

When  the  old  nurse  had  shut  the  front  door  after 
him  she  put  out  the  lamps  and  ascended  the  stairs. 
The  other  servants  were  in  bed.  Jane's  door  was 
partly  open.  Martha  pushed  it  gently  with  her 
hand  and  stepped  in.  Jane  had  thrown  herself  at 
full  length  on  the  bed  and  lay  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands.  She  was  talking  to  herself  and 
had  not  noticed  Martha's  footsteps. 

"  O  God !  what  have  I  done  that  this  should  be 
sent  to  me  ?  "  Martha  heard  her  say  between  her 
sobs.  "  You  would  be  big  enough,  my  beloved,  to 
bear  it  all  for  my  sake;  to  take  the  stain  and  wear 
it;  but  I  cannot  hurt  you — not  you,  not  you,  my 
great,  strong,  sweet  soul.  Your  heart  aches  for 
me  and  you  would  give  me  all  you  have,  but  I 
could  not  bear  your  name  without  telling  you.  You 
would  forgive  me,  but  I  could  never  forgive  myself. 
No,  no,  you  shall  stand  unstained  if  God  will  give 
me  strength !  " 

Martha  walked  softly  to  the  bed  and  bent  over 
Jane's  prostrate  body. 

"  It's  me,  dear.  What  did  he  say  to  break  your 
heart?" 

Jane  slipped  her  arm  about  the  old  nurse's  neck, 
drawing  her  closer,  and  without  lifting  her  own  head 
from  the  pillow  talked  on. 

"  Nothing,  nothing.  He  came  to  comfort  me,  not 
to  hurt  me." 

185 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABKEGAT 

"  Do  ye  think  it's  all  true  'bout  Bart  ? "  Martha 
whispered. 

Jane  raised  her  body  from  the  bed  and  rested  her 
head  on  Martha's  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  it's  all  true  about  Bart,"  she  answered  in  a 
stronger  and  more  composed  tone.  "  I  have  been 
expecting  it.  Poor  boy,  he  had  nothing  to  live  for, 
and  his  conscience  must  have  given  him  no  rest." 

"  Did  the  captain  tell  him  about "  and  Mar 
tha  pointed  toward  the  bed  of  the  sleeping  child. 
She  could  never  bring  herself  to  mention  Lucy's  name 
when  speaking  either  of  Bart  or  Archie. 

Jane  sat  erect,  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes, 
smoothed  her  hair  back  from  her  temples,  and  said 
with  something  of  her  customary  poise : 

"  l$o,  I  don't  think  so.  The  captain  gave  me  his 
word,  and  he  will  not  break  it.  Then,  again,  he  will 
never  discredit  his  own  son.  The  doctor  doesn't 
know,  and  there  will  be  nobody  to  tell  him.  That's 
not  what  he  came  to  tell  me.  It  was  about  the  stories 
you  heard  last  week  and  which  have  only  just  reached 
his  ears.  That's  all.  He  wanted  to  protect  me  from 
their  annoyance,  but  I  would  not  listen  to  him.  There 
is  trouble  enough  without  bringing  him  into  it.  Now 
go  to  bed,  Martha." 

As  she  spoke  Jane  regained  her  feet,  and  crossing 
the  room,  settled  into  a  chair  by  the  boy's  crib.  Long 
after  Martha  had  closed  her  own  door  for  the  night 

186 


MOBTON  COBDEN'S  DAUGHTEK 

Jane  sat  watching  the  sleeping  child.  One  plump 
pink  hand  lay  outside  the  cover;  the  other  little 
crumpled  rose-leaf  was  tucked  under  the  cheek,  the 
face  half -hidden  in  a  tangle  of  glossy  curls,  now  spun- 
gold  in  the  light  of  the  shaded  lamp. 

"  Poor  little  waif/7  she  sighed,  "  poor  little  mother 
less,  fatherless  waif!  Why  didn't  you  stay  in  hea 
ven  ?  This  world  has  no  place  for  you." 

Then  she  rose  wearily,  picked  up  the  light,  carried 
it  across  the  room  to  her  desk,  propped  a  book  in 
front  of  it  so  that  its  rays  would  not  fall  upon  the 
sleeping  child,  opened  her  portfolio,  and  sat  down  to 
write. 

When  she  had  finished  and  had  sealed  her  letter 
it  was  long  past  midnight.  It  was  addressed  to  Lucy 
in  Dresden,  and  contained  a  full  account  of  all  the 
doctor  had  told  her  of  Bart's  death. 


187 


CHAPTEE   XII 

A  LETTER  FKOM  PARIS 

For  the  first  year  Jane  watched  Archie's  growth 
and  development  with  the  care  of  a  self-appointed 
nurse  temporarily  doing  her  duty  by  her  charge. 
Later  on,  as  the  fact  became  burned  into  her  mind 
that  Lucy  would  never  willingly  return  to  Warehold, 
she  clung  to  him  with  that  absorbing  love  and  devo 
tion  which  an  unmarried  woman  often  lavishes  upon 
a  child  not  her  own.  In  his  innocent  eyes  she  saw  the 
fulfilment  of  her  promise  to  her  father.  He  would 
grow  to  be  a  man  of  courage  and  strength,  the  stain 
upon  his  birth  forgotten,  doing  honor  to  himself,  to 
her,  and  to  the  name  he  bore.  In  him,  too,  she  sought 
refuge  from  that  other  sorrow  which  was  often 
greater  than  she  could  bear — the  loss  of  the  closer 
companionship  of  Doctor  John — a  companionship 
which  only  a  wife's  place  could  gain  for  her.  The 
true  mother-love — the  love  which  she  had  denied  her 
self,  a  love  which  had  been  poured  out  upon  Lucy 
since  her  father's  death — found  its  outlet,  therefore, 
in  little  Archie. 

Under  Martha's  watchful  care  the  helpless  infant 
188 


A   LETTEE   FKOM   PAKIS 

grew  to  be  a  big,  roly-poly  boy,  never  out  of  her 
arms  when  she  could  avoid  it.  At  five  he  had  lost 
his  golden  curls  and  short  skirts  and  strutted  about 
in  knee-trousers.  At  seven  he  had  begun  to  roam 
the  streets,  picking  up  his  acquaintances  wherever 
he  found  them. 

Chief  among  them  was  Tod  Fogarty,  the  son  of 
the  fisherman,  now  a  boy  of  ten,  big  for  his  age  and 
bubbling  over  with  health  and  merriment,  and  whose 
life  Doctor  John  had  saved  when  he  was  a  baby. 
Tod  had  brought  a  basket  of  fish  to  Yardley,  and 
sneaking  Meg,  who  was  then  alive — he  died  the  year 
after — had  helped  himself  to  part  of  the  contents, 
and  the  skirmish  over  its  recovery  had  resulted  in  a 
friendship  which  was  to  last  the  boys  all  their  lives. 
The  doctor  believed  in  Tod,  and  always  spoke  of  his 
pluck  and  of  his  love  for  his  mother,  qualities  which 
Jane  admired — but  then  technical  class  distinctions 
never  troubled  Jane — every  honest  body  was  Jane's 
friend,  just  as  every  honest  body  was  Doctor  John's. 

The  doctor  loved  Archie  with  the  love  of  an  older 
brother;  not  altogether  because  he  was  Jane's  ward, 
but  for  the  boy's  own  qualities — for  his  courage,  for 
his  laugh — particularly  for  his  buoyancy.  Often,  as 
he  looked  into  the  lad's  eyes  brimming  with  fun,  he 
would  wish  that  he  himself  had  been  born  with  the 
same  kind  of  temperament.  Then  again  the  boy 
satisfied  to  a  certain  extent  the  longing  in  his  heart 

189 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

for  home,  wife,  and  child — a  void  which  he  knew 
now  would  never  be  filled.  Fate  had  decreed  that 
he  and  the  woman  he  loved  should  live  apart — with 
this  he  must  be  content.  Not  that  his  disappoint 
ments  had  soured  him;  only  that  this  ever-present 
sorrow  had  added  to  the  cares  of  his  life,  and  in  later 
years  had  taken  much  of  the  spring  and  joyousness 
out  of  him.  This  drew  him  all  the  closer  to  Archie, 
and  the  lad  soon  became  his  constant  companion; 
sitting  beside  him  in  his  gig,  waiting  for  him  at  the 
doors  of  the  fishermen's  huts,  or  in  the  cabins  of  the 
poor  on  the  outskirts  of  Barnegat  and  Warehold. 

"  There  goes  Doctor  John  of  Barnegat  and  his 
curly-head,"  the  neighbors  would  say ;  "  when  ye 
see  one  ye  see  t'other." 

Newcomers  in  Barnegat  and  Warehold  thought 
Archie  was  his  son,  and  would  talk  to  the  doctor  about 
him: 

"  Fine  lad  you  got,  doctor — don't  look  a  bit  like 
you,  but  maybe  he  will  when  he  gets  his  growth." 
At  which  the  doctor  would  laugh  and  pat  the  boy's 
head. 

During  all  these  years  Lucy's  letters  came  but 
seldom.  When  they  did  arrive,  most  of  them  were 
filled  with  elaborate  excuses  for  her  prolonged  stay. 
The  money,  she  wrote,  which  Jane  had  sent  her  from 
time  to  time  was  ample  for  her  needs;  she  was  mak 
ing  many  valuable  friends,  and  she  could  not  see 

190 


A    LETTEE    EEOM    PAKIS 

how  she  could  return  until  the  following  spring — 
a  spring  which  never  came.  In  no  one  of  them  had 
she  ever  answered  Jane's  letter  about  Bart's  death, 
except  to  acknowledge  its  receipt.  Nor,  strange  to 
say,  had  she  ever  expressed  any  love  for  Archie. 
Jane's  letters  were  always  filled  with  the  child's 
doings;  his  illnesses  and  recoveries;  but  whenever 
Lucy  mentioned  his  name,  which  was  seldom,  she 
invariably  referred  to  him  as  "  your  little  ward  "  or 
"  your  baby,"  evidently  intending  to  wipe  that  part 
of  her  life  completely  out.  Neither  did  she  make 
any  comment  on  the  child's  christening — a  ceremony 
which  took  place  in  the  church,  Pastor  Dellenbaugh 
officiating — except  to  write  that  perhaps  one  name 
was  as  good  as  another,  and  that  she  hoped  he  would 
not  disgrace  it  when  he  grew  up. 

These  things,  however,  made  but  little  impression 
on  Jane.  She  never  lost  faith  in  her  sister,  and 
never  gave  up  hope  that  one  day  they  would  all 
three  be  reunited;  how  or  where  she  could  not  tell 
or  foresee,  but  in  some  way  by  which  Lucy  would 
know  and  love  her  son  for  himself  alone,  and  the  two 
live  together  ever  after — his  parentage  always  a 
secret.  When  Lucy  once  looked  into  her  boy's  face 
she  was  convinced  she  would  love  and  cling  to  him. 
This  was  her  constant  prayer. 

All  these  hopes  were  dashed  to  the  ground  bj  the 
receipt  of  a  letter  from  Lucy  with  a  Genera  post- 
191 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

mark.  She  liad  not  written  for  months,  and  Jane 
broke  the  seal  with  a  murmur  of  delight,  Martha 
leaning  forward,  eager  to  hear  the  first  word  from 
her  bairn.  As  she  read  Jane's  face  grew  suddenly 
pale. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Martha  asked  in  a  trembling  voice. 

For  some  minutes  Jane  sat  staring  into  space, 
her  hand  pressed  to  her  side.  She  looked  like  one 
who  had  received  a  death  message.  Then,  without 
a  word,  she  handed  the  letter  to  Martha. 

The  old  woman  adjusted  her  glasses,  read  the  mis 
sive  to  the  end  without  comment,  and  laid  it  back 
on  Jane's  lap.  The  writing  covered  but  part  of  the 
page,  and  announced  Lucy's  coming  marriage  with  a 
Frenchman :  "  A  man  of  distinction ;  some  years 
older  than  myself,  and  of  ample  means.  He  fell  in 
love  with  me  at  Aix." 

There  are  certain  crises  in  life  with  conclusions 
so  evident  that  no  spoken  word  can  add  to  their  clear 
ness.  There  is  no  need  of  comment ;  neither  is  there 
room  for  doubt.  The  bare  facts  stand  naked.  No 
sophistry  can  dull  their  outlines  nor  soften  the  insist 
ence  of  their  high  lights;  nor  can  any  reasoning  ex 
plain  away  the  results  that  will  follow.  Both  women, 
without  the  exchange  of  a  word,  knew  instantly  that 
the  consummation  of  this  marriage  meant  the  loss 
of  Lucy  forever.  Now  she  would  never  come  back, 
and  Archie  would  be  motherless  for  life.  They  fore- 

192 


A    LETTER    FROM    PARIS 

saw,  too,  that  all  their  yearning  to  clasp  Lucy  once 
more  in  their  arms  would  go  unsatisfied.  In  this 
marriage  she  had  found  a  way  to  slip  as  easily  from 
out  the  ties  that  bound  her  to  Yardley  as  she  would 
from  an  old  dress. 

Martha  rose  from  her  chair,  read  the  letter  again 
to  the  end,  and  without  opening  her  lips  left  the 
room.  Jane  kept  her  seat,  her  head  resting  on  her 
hand,  the  letter  once  more  in  her  lap.  The  revulsion 
of  feeling  had  paralyzed  her  judgment,  and  for  a 
time  had  benumbed  her  emotions.  All  she  saw  was 
Archie's  eyes  looking  into  hers  as  he  waited  for  an 
answer  to  that  question  he  would  one  day  ask  and 
which  now  she  knew  she  could  never  give. 

Then  there  rose  before  her,  like  some  disembodied 
spirit  from  a  long-covered  grave,  the  spectre  of  the 
past.  An  icy  chill  crept  over  her.  Would  Lucy 
begin  this  new  life  with  the  same  deceit  with  which 
she  had  begun  the  old  ?  And  if  she  did,  would  this 
Frenchman  forgive  her  when  he  learned  the  facts  ? 
If  he  never  learned  them — and  this  was  most  to  be 
dreaded — what  would  Lucy's  misery  be  all  her  life 
if  she  still  kept  the  secret  close  ?  Then  with  a  pathos 
all  the  more  intense  because  of  her  ignorance  of  the 
true  situation — she  fighting  on  alone,  unconscious 
that  the  man  she  loved  not  only  knew  every  pulsa 
tion  of  her  aching  heart,  but  would  be  as  willing  as 
herself  to  guard  its  secret,  she  cried : 

193 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

"  Yes,  at  any  cost  she  must  be  saved  from  this 
living  death !  I  know  what  it  is  to  sit  beside  the  man 
I  love,  the  man  whose  arm  is  ready  to  sustain  me, 
whose  heart  is  bursting  for  love  of  me,  and  yet  be 
always  held  apart  by  a  spectre  which  I  dare  not 
face." 

With  this  came  the  resolve  to  prevent  the  marriage 
at  all  hazards,  even  to  leaving  Yardley  and  taking  the 
first  steamer  to  Europe,  that  she  might  plead  with 
Lucy  in  person. 

While  she  sat  searching  her  brain  for  some  way 
out  of  the  threatened  calamity,  the  rapid  rumbling 
of  the  doctor's  gig  was  heard  on  the  gravel  road  out 
side  her  open  window.  She  knew  from  the  speed 
with  which  he  drove  that  something  out  of  the  com 
mon  had  happened.  The  gig  stopped  and  the  doc 
tor's  voice  rang  out: 

"  Come  as  quick  as  you  can,  Jane,  please.  I've 
got  a  bad  case  some  miles  out  of  Warehold,  and  I 
need  you ;  it's  a  compound  fracture,  and  I  want  you 
to  help  with  the  chloroform." 

All  her  indecision  vanished  and  all  her  doubts 
were  swept  away  as  she  caught  the  tones  of  his  voice. 
Who  else  in  the  wide  world  understood  her  as  he 
did,  and  who  but  he  should  guide  her  now?  Had 
he  ever  failed  her?  When  was  his  hand  withheld 
or  his  lips  silent?  How  long  would  her  pride  shut 
out  his  sympathy?  If  he  could  help  in  the  smaller 

194 


A    LETTER    FROM    PARIS 

things  of  life  why  not  trust  him  in  this  larger  sor 
row? — one  that  threatened  to  overwhelm  her,  she 
whose  heart  ached  for  tenderness  and  wise  counsel. 
Perhaps  she  could  lean  upon  him  without  betraying 
her  trust.  After  all,  the  question  of  Archie's  birth — 
the  one  secret  between  them — need  not  come  up.  It 
was  Lucy's  future  happiness  which  was  at  stake. 
This  must  be  made  safe  at  any  cost  short  of  exposure. 

"  Better  put  a  few  things  in  a  bag,"  Doctor  John 
continued.  "  It  may  be  a  case  of  hours  or  days — I 
can't  tell  till  I  see  him.  The  boy  fell  from  the  roof 
of  the  stable  and  is  pretty  badly  hurt ;  both  legs  are 
broken,  I  hear;  the  right  one  in  two  places." 

She  was  upstairs  in  a  moment,  into  her  nursing 
dress,  always  hanging  ready  in  case  the  doctor  called 
for  her,  and  down  again,  standing  beside  the  gig,  her 
bag  in  her  hand,  before  he  had  time  to  turn  his  horse 
and  arrange  the  seat  and  robes  for  her  comfort. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  hurriedly,  resting  her 
hand  in  his  as  he  helped  her  into  the  seat  and  took 
the  one  beside  her,  Martha  and  Archie  assisting  with 
her  bag  and  big  driving  cloak. 

"  Burton's  boy.  His  father  was  coming  for  me 
and  met  me  on  the  road.  I  have  everything  with 
me,  so  we  will  not  lose  any  time.  Good-by,  my  boy," 
he  called  to  Archie.  "  One  day  I'll  make  a  doctor 
of  you,  and  then  I  won't  have  to  take  your  dear 
mother  from  you  so  often.  Good-by,  Martha.  You 

195 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

want  to  take  care  of  that  cough,  old  lady,  or  I  shall 
have  to  send  up  some  of  those  plasters  you 
love  so." 

They  were  off  and  rattling  down  the  path  between 
the  lilacs  before  either  Archie  or  the  old  woman 
could  answer.  To  hearts  like  Jane's  and  the  doc 
tor's,  a  suffering  body,  no  matter  how  far  away,  was 
a  sinking  ship  in  the  clutch  of  the  breakers.  Until 
the  lifeboat  reached  her  side  everything  was  for 
gotten. 

The  doctor  adjusted  the  robe  over  Jane's  lap  and 
settled  himself  in  his  seat.  They  had  often  driven 
thus  together,  and  Jane's  happiest  hours  had  been 
spent  close  to  his  side,  both  intent  on  the  same  er 
rand  of  mercy,  and  both  working  together.  That  was 
the  joy  of  it! 

They  talked  of  the  wounded  boy  and  of  the  needed 
treatment  and  what  part  each  should  take  in  the 
operation ;  of  some  new  cases  in  the  hospital  and  the 
remedies  suggested  for  their  comfort;  of  Archie's 
life  on  the  beach  and  how  ruddy  and  handsome  he 
was  growing,  and  of  his  tender,  loving  nature  ;  and  of 
the  thousand  and  one  other  things  that  two  people 
who  know  every  pulsation  of  each  other's  hearts  are 
apt  to  discuss — of  everything,  in  fact,  but  the  letter 
in  her  pocket.  "  It  is  a  serious  case,"  she  said  to 
herself — "  this  to  which  we  are  hurrying — and  noth 
ing  must  disturb  the  sureness  of  his  sensitive  hand." 

196 


A   LETTER   FKOM   PAKIS 

Now  and  then,  as  he  spoke,  the  two  would  turn 
their  heads  and  look  into  each  other's  eyes. 

When  a  man's  face  lacks  the  lines  and  modellings 
that  stand  for  beauty  the  woman  who  loves  him  is 
apt  to  omit  in  her  eager  glance  every  feature  but 
his  eyes.  His  eyes  are  the  open  doors  to  his  soul; 
in  these  she  finds  her  ideals,  and  in  these  she  revels. 
But  with  Jane  every  feature  was  a  joy — the  way 
the  smoothly  cut  hair  was  trimmed  about  his  white 
temples;  the  small,  well-turned  ears  lying  flat  to  his 
head;  the  lines  of  his  eyebrows;  the  wide,  sensitive 
nostrils  and  the  gleam  of  the  even  teeth  flashing 
from  between  well-drawn,  mobile  lips ;  the  white, 
smooth,  polished  skin.  ~Not  all  faces  could  boast 
this  beauty;  but  then  not  all  souls  shone  as  clearly 
as  did  Doctor  John's  through  the  thin  veil  of  his 
face. 

And  she  was  equally  young  and  beautiful  to  him. 
Her  figure  was  still  that  of  her  youth ;  her  face  had 
not  changed — he  still  caught  the  smile  of  the  girl 
he  loved.  Often,  when  they  had  been  driving  along 
the  coast,  the  salt  wind  in  their  faces,  and  he  had 
looked  at  her  suddenly,  a  thrill  of  delight  had  swept 
through  him  as  he  noted  how  rosy  were  her  cheeks 
and  how  ruddy  the  wrists  above  the  gloves,  hiding 
the  dear  hands  he  loved  so  well,  the  tapering  fingers 
tipped  with  delicate  pink  nails.  He  could,  if  he 
sought  them,  find  many  telltale  wrinkles  about  the 

197 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

corners  of  the  mouth  and  under  the  eyelids  (he  knew 
and  loved  them  all),  showing  where  the  acid  of  anx 
iety  had  bitten  deep  into  the  plate  on  which  the 
record  of  her  life  was  being  daily  etched,  but  her 
beautiful  gray  eyes  still  shone  with  the  same  true, 
kindly  light,  and  always  flashed  the  brighter  when 
they  looked  into  his  own.  No,  she  wras  ever  young 
and  ever  beautiful  to  him ! 

To-day,  however,  there  was  a  strange  tremor  in 
her  voice  and  an  anxious,  troubled  expression  in  her 
face — one  that  he  had  not  seen  for  years.  ]STor  had 
she  once  looked  into  his  eyes  in  the  old  way. 

"  Something  worries  you,  Jane,"  he  said,  his 
voice  echoing  his  thoughts.  "  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  ~No — not  now — it  is  nothing,"  she  answered 
quickly. 

"  Yes,  tell  me.  Don't  keep  any  troubles  from  me. 
I  have  nothing  else  to  do  in  life  but  smooth  them  out. 
Come,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Wait  until  we  get  through  with  Burton's  boy. 
He  may  be  hurt  worse  than  you  think." 

The  doctor  slackened  the  reins  until  they  rested 
on  the  dashboard,  and  with  a  quick  movement  turned 
half  around  and  looked  searchingly  into  Jane's  eyes. 

"  It  is  serious,  then.     What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Only  a  letter  from  Lucy." 

"  Is  she  coming  home  ?  " 

"  No,  she  is  going  to  be  married." 
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A   LETTEK   FKOM   PAKIS 

The  doctor  gave  a  low  whistle.  Instantly  Archie's 
laughing  eyes  looked  into  his ;  then  came  the  thought 
of  the  nameless  grave  of  his  father. 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul !  You  don't  say  so !  Who 
to,  pray?" 

"  To  a  Frenchman."  Jane's  eyes  were  upon  his, 
reading  the  effect  of  her  news.  His  tone  of  surprise 
left  an  uncomfortable  feeling  behind  it. 

"  How  long  has  she  known  him  ?  "  he  continued, 
tightening  the  reins  again  and  chirruping  to  the  mare. 

"  She  does  not  say — not  long,  I  should  think." 

"  What  sort  of  a  Frenchman  is  he  ?  I've  known 
several  kinds  in  my  life — so  have  you,  no  doubt," 
and  a  quiet  smile  overspread  his  face.  "  Come, 
Bess !  Hurry  up,  old  girl." 

"  A  gentleman,  I  should  think,  from  what  she 
writes.  He  is  much  older  than  Lucy,  and  she  says 
very  well  off." 

"  Then  you  didn't  meet  him  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  never  heard  of  him  before  ?  " 

"  Not  until  I  received  this  letter." 

The  doctor  reached  for  his  whip  and  flecked  off  a 
fly  that  had  settled  on  the  mare's  neck. 

"  Lucy  is  about  twenty-seven,  is  she  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  some  eight  years  younger  than  I  am.  Why 
do  you  ask,  John  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  always  a  restless  age  for  a  woman. 
199 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKXEGAT 

She  has  lost  the  protecting  ignorance  of  youth  and 
she  has  not  yet  gained  enough  of  the  experience  of 
age  to  steady  her.  Marriage  often  comes  as  a  balance- 
weight.  She  is  coming  home  to  be  married,  isn't 
she  ?  " 

"  No ;  they  are  to  be  married  in  Geneva  at  his 
mother's." 

"  I  think  that  part  of  it  is  a  mistake/'  he  said  in 
a  decided  tone.  "  There  is  no  reason  why  she  should 
not  be  married  here ;  she  owes  that  to  you  and  to 
herself."  Then  he  added  in  a  gentler  tone,  "  And 
this  worries  you  ?  " 

"  More  than  I  can  tell  you,  John."  There  was  a 
note  in  her  voice  that  vibrated  through  him.  He 
knew  now  how  seriously  the  situation  affected  her. 

"  But  why,  Jane  ?  If  Lucy  is  happier  in  it  we 
should  do  what  we  can  to  help  her." 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  this  way.  This  will  make  her 
all  the  more  miserable.  I  don't  want  this  marriage ; 
I  want  her  to  come  home  and  live  with  me  and 
Archie.  She  makes  me  promises  every  year  to  come, 
and  now  it  is  over  six  years  since  I  left  her  and  she 
has  always  put  me  off.  This  marriage  means  that 
she  will  never  come.  I  want  her  here,  John.  It 
is  not  right  for  her  to  live  as  she  ioes.  Please  think 
as  I  do!" 

The  doctor  patted  Jane's  hand — it  was  the  only 
mark  of  affection  he  ever  allowed  himself — not  in 

200 


A    LETTEK    FKOM    PAKIS 

a  caressing  way,  but  more  as  a  father  would  pat  the 
hand  of  a  nervous  child. 

"  Well,  let  us  go  over  it  from  the  beginning. 
Maybe  I  don't  know  all  the  facts.  Have  you  the 
letter  with  you  ?  " 

She  handed  it  to  him.  He  passed  the  reins  to  her 
and  read  it  carefully  to  the  end. 

"  Have  you  answered  it  yet  ?  " 

"  'No,  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  it.  What 
do  you  think  now  ?  " 

"  I  can't  see  that  it  will  make  any  difference.  She 
is  not  a  woman  to  live  alone.  I  have  always  been 
surprised  that  she  waited  so  long.  You  are  wrong, 
Jane,  about  this.  It  is  best  for  everybody  and  every 
thing  that  Lucy  should  be  married." 

"  John,  dear,"  she  said  in  a  half -pleading  tone — 
there  were  some  times  when  this  last  word  slipped 
out — "  I  don't  want  this  marriage  at  all.  I  am  so 
wretched  about  it  that  I  feel  like  taking  the  first 
steamer  and  bringing  her  home  with  me.  She  will 
forget  all  about  him  when  she  is  here ;  and  it  is  only 
her  loneliness  that  makes  her  want  to  marry.  I  don't 
want  her  married ;  I  want  her  to  love  me  and  Martha 
and — Archie — and  she  will  if  she  sees  him." 

"  Is  that  better  than  loving  a  man  who  loves  her  ?  " 
The  words  dropped  from  his  lips  before  he  could 
recall  them — forced  out,  as  it  were,  by  the  pressure 
of  his  heart. 

201 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Jane  caught  her  breath  and  the  color  rose  in  her 
cheeks.  She  knew  he  did  not  mean  her,  and  yet 
she  saw  he  spoke  from  his  heart.  Doctor  John's 
face,  however,  gave  no  sign  of  his  thoughts. 

"  But,  John,  I  don't  know  that  she  does  love 
him.  She  doesn't  say  so — she  says  lie  loves  her. 
And  if  she  did,  we  cannot  all  follow  our  own  hearts." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  replied  calmly,  looking  straight 
ahead  of  him:  at  the  bend  in  the  road,  at  the  crows 
flying  in  the  air,  at  the  leaden  sky  between  the  rows 
of  pines.  If  she  wanted  to  give  him  her  confidence 
he  was  ready  now  with  heart  and  arms  wide  open. 
Perhaps  his  hour  had  come  at  last. 

"  Because — because,"  she  faltered,  "  our  duty 
comes  in.  That  is  holier  than  love."  Then  her 
voice  rose  and  steadied  itself — "  Lucy's  duty  is  to 
come  home." 

He  understood.  The  gate  was  still  shut ;  the  wall 
still  confronted  him.  He  could  not  and  would  not 
scale  it.  She  had  risked  her  own  happiness — even 
her  reputation — to  keep  this  skeleton  hidden,  the 
secret  inviolate.  Only  in  the  late  years  had  she  be 
gun  to  recover  from  the  strain.  She  had  stood  the 
brunt  and  borne  the  sufferings  of  another's  sin  with 
out  complaint,  without  reward,  giving  up  everything 
in  life  in  consecration  to  her  trust.  He,  of  all  men, 
could  not  tear  the  mask  away,  nor  could  he  stoop  by 
the  more  subtle  paths  of  friendship,  love,  or  duty 

202 


A    LETTER    EROM    PARIS 

to  seek  to  look  behind  it — not  without  her  own  free 
and  willing  hand  to  guide  him.  There  was  nothing 
else  in  all  her  life  that  she  had  not  told  him.  Every 
thought  was  his,  every  resolve,  every  joy.  She  would 
entrust  him  with  this  if  it  was  hers  to  give.  Until 
she  did  his  lips  would  be  sealed.  As  to  Lucy,  it 
could  make  no  difference.  Bart  lying  in  a  foreign 
grave  would  never  trouble  her  again,  and  Archie 
would  only  be  a  stumbling-block  in  her  career.  She 
would  never  love  the  boy,  come  what  might.  If  this 
Frenchman  filled  her  ideal,  it  was  best  for  her  to 
end  her  days  across  the  water — best  certainly  for 
Jane,  to  whom  she  had  only  brought  unhappiness. 

Eor  some  moments  he  busied  himself  with  the 
reins,  loosening  them  from  where  they  were  caught 
in  the  harness ;  then  he  bent  his  head  and  said  slowly, 
and  with  the  tone  of  the  physician  in  consulta 
tion  : 

"  Your  protest  will  do  no  good,  Jane,  and  your 
trip  abroad  will  only  be  a  waste  of  time  and  money. 
If  Lucy  has  not  changed,  and  this  letter  shows  that 
she  has  not,  she  will  laugh  at  your  objections  and 
end  by  doing  as  she  pleases.  She  has  always  been 
a  law  unto  herself,  and  this  new  move  of  hers  is 
part  of  her  life-plan.  Take  my  advice:  stay  where 
you  are;  write  her  a  loving,  sweet  letter  and  tell 
her  how  happy  you  hope  she  will  be,  and  send  her 
your  congratulations.  She  will  not  listen  to  your 

203 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKJSTEGAT 

objections,  and  your  opposition  might  lose  you  her 
love." 


Before  dark  they  were  both  on  their  way  back  to 
Yardley.  Burton's  boy  had  not  been  hurt  as  badly 
as  his  father  thought;  but  one  leg  was  broken,  and 
this  was  soon  in  splints,  and  without  Jane's  assist 
ance. 

Before  they  had  reached  her  door  her  mind  was 
made  up. 

The  doctor's  words,  as  they  always  did,  had  gone 
down  deep  into  her  mind,  and  all  thoughts  of  going 
abroad,  or  of  even  protesting  against  Lucy's  mar 
riage,  were  given  up.  Only  the  spectre  remained. 
That  the  doctor  knew  nothing  of,  and  that  she  must 
meet  alone. 

Martha  took  Jane's  answer  to  the  post-office  her 
self.  She  had  talked  its  contents  over  with  the  old 
nurse,  and  the  two  had  put  their  hearts  into  every 
line. 

"  Tell  him  everything,"  Jane  wrote.  "  Don't  be 
gin  a  new  life  with  an  old  lie.  With  me  it  is  differ 
ent.  I  saved  you,  my  sister,  because  I  loved  you, 
and  because  I  could  not  bear  that  your  sweet  girl 
hood  should  be  marred.  I  shall  live  my  life  out  in 
this  duty.  It  came  to  me,  and  I  could  not  put  it 
from  me,  and  would  not  now  if  I  could,  but  I  know 
the  tyranny  of  a  secret  you  cannot  share  with  the 

204 


A   LETTEE   FEOM   PARIS 

man  who  loves  you.  I  know,  too,  the  cruelty  of  it 
all.  For  years  I  have  answered  kindly  meant  in 
quiry  with  discourteous  silence,  bearing  insinuations, 
calumny,  insults — and  all  because  I  cannot  speak. 
Don't,  I  beseech  you,  begin  your  new  life  in  this 
slavery.  But  whatever  the  outcome,  take  him  into 
your  confidence.  Better  have  him  leave  you  now 
than  after  you  are  married.  Kemember,  too,  that 
if  by  this  declaration  you  should  lose  his  love  you 
will  at  least  gain  his  respect.  Perhaps,  if  his  heart 
is  tender  and  he  feels  for  the  suffering  and  wronged, 
you  may  keep  both.  Forgive  me,  dear,  but  I  have 
only  your  happiness  at  heart,  and  I  love  you  too 
dearly  not  to  warn  you  against  any  danger  which 
would  threaten  you.  Martha  agrees  with  me  in  the 
above,  and  knows  you  will  do  right  by  him." 

When  Lucy's  answer  arrived  weeks  afterward — 
after  her  marriage,  in  fact — Jane  read  it  with  a 
clutching  at  her  throat  she  had  not  known  since  that 
fatal  afternoon  when  Martha  return  led  from  Trenton. 

"  You  dear,  foolish  sister,"  Lucy's  letter  began, 
"  what  should  I  tell  him  for  ?  He  loves  me  devotedly 
and  we  are  very  happy  together,  and  I  am  not  going 
to  cause  him  any  pain  by  bringing  any  disagreeable 
thing  into  his  life.  People  don't  do  those  wild,  old- 
fashioned  things  over  here.  And  then,  again,  there 
is  no  possibility  of  his  finding  out.  Maria  agrees 
with  me  thoroughly,  and  says  in  her  funny  way  that 

205 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

men  nowadays  know  too  much  already."  Then  fol 
lowed  an  account  of  her  wedding. 

This  letter  Jane  did  not  read  to  the  doctor — no 
part  of  it,  in  fact.  She  did  not  even  mention  its 
receipt,  except  to  say  that  the  wedding  had  taken 
place  in  Geneva,  where  the  Frenchman's  mother 
lived,  it  being  impossible,  Lucy  said,  for  her  to  come 
home,  and  that  Maria  Collins,  who  was  staying  with 
her,  had  been  the  only  one  of  her  old  friends  at  the 
ceremony.  Neither  did  she  read  it  all  to  Martha. 
The  old  nurse  was  growing  more  feeble  every  year 
and  she  did  not  wish  her  blind  faith  in  her  bairn 
disturbed. 

For  many  days  she  kept  the  letter  locked  in  her 
desk,  not  having  the  courage  to  take  it  out  again 
and  read  it.  Then  she  sent  for  Captain  Holt,  the 
only  one,  beside  Martha,  with  whom  she  could  dis 
cuss  the  matter.  She  knew  his  strong,  honest  nature, 
and  his  blunt,  outspoken  way  of  giving  vent  to  his 
mind,  and  she  hoped  that  his  knowledge  of  life  might 
help  to  comfort  her. 

"  Married  to  one  o'  them  furriners,  is  she  ?  "  the 
captain  blurted  out ;  "  and  goin'  to  keep  right  on 
livin'  the  lie  she's  lived  t ever  since  she  left  ye? 
You'll  excuse  me,  Miss  Jane, — you've  been  a  mother, 
and  a  sister  and  everything  to  her,  and  you're  nearer 
the  angels  than  anybody  I  know.  That's  what  I 
think  when  I  look  at  you  and  Archie.  I  say  it  be- 

206 


A   LETTER   FKOM   PARIS 

hind  your  back  and  I  say  it  now  to  your  face,  for 
it's  true.  As  to  Lucy,  I  may  be  mistaken,  and  I  may 
not.  I  don't  want  to  condemn  nothin'  'less  I'm  on 
the  survey  and  kin  look  the  craft  over;  that's  why 
I'm  partic'lar.  Maybe  Bart  was  right  in  sayin'  it 
warn't  all  his  fault,  whelp  as  he  was  to  say  it,  and 
maybe  he  warn't.  It  ain't  up  before  me  and  I  ain't 
passin'  on  it, — but  one  thing  is  certain,  when  a  ship's 
made  as  many  voyages  as  Lucy  has  and  ain't  been 
home  for  repairs  nigh  on  to  seven  years — ain't  it  ?  " 
and  he  looked  at  Jane  for  confirmation — "  she  gits 
foul  and  sometimes  a  little  mite  worm-eaten — espe 
cially  her  bilge  timbers,  unless  they're  copper-fast 
ened  or  pretty  good  stuff.  I've  been  thinkin'  for 
some  time  that  you  ain't  got  Lucy  straight,  and  this 
last  kick-up  of  hers  makes  me  sure  of  it.  Some 
timber  is  growed  right  and  some  timber  is  growed 
crooked;  and  when  it's  growed  crooked  it  gits  leaky, 
and  no  'mount  o'  tar  and  pitch  kin  stop  it.  Every 
twist  the  ship  gives  it  opens  the  seams,  and  the 
pumps  is  goin'  all  the  time.  When  your  timber  is 
growed  right  you  kin  all  go  to  sleep  and  not  a  drop 
o'  water'll  git  in.  Your  sister  Lucy  ain't  growed 
right.  Maybe  she  kin  help  it  and  maybe  she  can't, 
but  she'll  leak  every  time  there  comes  a  twist.  See 
if  she  don't." 

But  Jane  never  lost  faith  nor  wavered  in  her  trust. 
With  the  old-time  love  strong  upon  her  she  continued 

207 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

to  make  excuses  for  this  thoughtless,  irresponsible 
woman,  so  easily  influenced.  "  It  is  Maria  Collins 
who  has  written  the  letter,  and  not  Lucy/7  she  kept 
saying  to  herself.  "  Maria  has  been  her  bad  angel 
from  her  girlhood,  and  still  dominates  her.  The 
poor  child's  sufferings  have  hardened  her  heart  and 
destroyed  for  a  time  her  sense  of  right  and  wrong — 
that  is  all." 

With  this  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind  she 
took  the  letter  from  her  desk,  and  stirring  the  smould 
ering  embers,  laid  it  upon  the  coals.  The  sheet  blazed 
and  fell  into  ashes. 

"  No  one  will  ever  know,"  she  said  with  a  sigh. 


208 


CHAPTER   XIII 

SCOOTSY'S  EPITHET 

Lying  on  Barnegat  Beach,  within  sight  of  the 
House  of  Refuge  and  Fogarty's  cabin,  was  the  hull 
of  a  sloop  which  had  been  whirled  in  one  night  in  a 
southeaster,  with  not  a  soul  on  board,  riding  the 
breakers  like  a  duck,  and  landing  high  and  dry  out 
of  the  hungry  clutch  of  the  surf -dogs.  She  was  light 
at  the  time  and  without  ballast,  and  lay  stranded  up 
right  on  her  keel.  All  attempts  by  the  beach 
combers  to  float  her  had  proved  futile;  they  had 
stripped  her  of  her  standing  rigging  and  everything 
else  of  value,  and  had  then  abandoned  her.  Only 
the  evenly  balanced  hull  was  left,  its  bottom  timbers 
broken  and  its  bent  keelson  buried  in  the  sand.  This 
hulk  little  Tod  Fogarty,  aged  ten,  had  taken  posses 
sion  of;  particularly  the  after-part  of  the  hold,  over 
which  he  had  placed  a  trusty  henchman  armed  with 
a  cutlass  made  from  the  hoop  of  a  fish  barrel.  The 
henchman — aged  seven — wore  knee-trousers  and  a 
cap  and  answered  to  the  name  of  Archie.  The  refuge 
itself  bore  the  title  of  "  The  Bandit's  Home." 

This  new  hulk  had  taken  the  place  of  the  old 
209 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

schooner  which  had  served  Captain  Holt  as  a  land 
mark  on  that  eventful  night  when  he  strode  Barnegat 
Beach  in  search  of  Bart,  and  which  by  the  action 
of  the  ever-changing  tides,  had  gradually  settled  until 
now  only  a  hillock  marked  its  grave — a  fate  which 
sooner  or  later  would  overtake  this  newly  landed 
sloop  itself. 

These  Barnegat  tides  are  the  sponges  that  wipe 
clean  the  slate  of  the  beach.  Each  day  a  new  rec 
ord  is  made  and  each  day  it  is  wiped  out:  records 
from  passing  ships,  an  empty  crate,  broken  spar  or 
useless  barrel  grounded  now  and  then  by  the  tide 
in  its  flow  as  it  moves  up  and  down  the  sand  at  the 
will  of  the  waters.  Records,  too,  of  many  foot 
prints, — the  lagging  steps  of  happy  lovers ;  the  dim 
pled  feet  of  joyous  children;  the  tread  of  tramp, 
coast-guard  or  fisherman — all  scoured  clean  when  the 
merciful  tide  makes  ebb. 

Other  records  are  strewn  along  the  beach ;  these 
the  tide  alone  cannot  efface — the  bow  of  some  hap 
less  schooner  it  may  be,  wrenched  from  its  hull,  and 
sent  whirling  shoreward;  the  shattered  mast  and 
crosstrees  of  a  stranded  ship  beaten  to  death  in  the 
breakers;  or  some  battered  capstan  carried  in  the 
white  teeth  of  the  surf-dogs  and  dropped  beyond  the 
froth-line.  To  these  with  the  help  of  the  south  wind, 
the  tides  extend  their  mercy,  burying  them  deep  with 
successive  blankets  of  sand,  hiding  their  bruised 

210 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

bodies,  covering  their  nakedness  and  the  marks  of 
their  sufferings.  All  through  the  restful  summer 
and  late  autumn  these  battered  derelicts  lie  buried, 
while  above  their  graves  the  children  play  and  watch 
the  ships  go  hy,  or  stretch  themselves  at  length,  their 
eyes  on  the  circling  gulls. 

With  the  coming  of  the  autumn  all  this  is  changed. 
The  cruel  north  wind  now  wakes,  and  with  a  loud 
roar  joins  hands  with  the  savage  easter ;  the  startled 
surf  falls  upon  the  beach  like  a  scourge.  Under 
their  double  lash  the  outer  bar  cowers  and  sinks; 
the  frightened  sand  flees  hither  and  thither.  Soon 
the  frenzied  breakers  throw  themselves  headlong, 
tearing  with  teeth  and  claws,  burrowing  deep  into  the 
hidden  graves.  ISTow  the  forgotten  wrecks,  like  long- 
buried  sins,  rise  and  stand  naked,  showing  every  scar 
and  stain.  This  is  the  work  of  the  sea-puss — the 
revolving  maniac  born  of  close- wed  wind  and  tide; 
a  beast  so  terrible  that  in  a  single  night,  with  its 
auger-like  snout,  it  bites  huge  inlets  out  of  farm 
lands — mouthfuls  deep  enough  for  ships  to  sail  where 
but  yesterday  the  corn  grew. 

In  the  hull  of  this  newly  stranded  sloop,  then — 
sitting  high  and  dry,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  summer 
surf, — Tod  and  Archie  spent  every  hour  of  the  day 
they  could  call  their  own;  sallying  forth  on  various 
piratical  excursions,  coming  back  laden  with  drift 
wood  for  a  bonfire,  or  hugging  some  bottle,  which  was 

211 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

always  opened  with  trembling,  eager  fingers  in  the 
inmost  recesses  of  the  Home,  in  the  hope  that  some 
tidings  of  a  lost  ship  might  be  found  inside ;  or  with 
their  pockets  crammed  with  clam-shells  and  other 
sea  spoils  with  which  to  decorate  the  inside  timbers 
of  what  was  left  of  the  former  captain's  cabin. 

Jane  had  protested  at  first,  but  the  doctor  had 
looked  the  hull  over,  and  found  that  there  was  noth 
ing  wide  enough,  nor  deep  enough,  nor  sharp  enough 
to  do  them  harm,  and  so  she  was  content.  Then 
again,  the  boys  were  both  strong  for  their  age,  and 
looked  it,  Tod  easily  passing  for  a  lad  of  twelve  or 
fourteen,  and  Archie  for  a  boy  of  ten.  The  one 
danger  discovered  by  the  doctor  lay  in  its  height, 
the  only  way  of  boarding  the  stranded  craft  being 
by  means  of  a  hand-over-hand  climb  up  the  rusty 
chains  of  the  bowsprit,  a  difficult  and  trousers-tearing 
operation.  This  was  obviated  by  Tod's  father,  who 
made  a  ladder  for  the  boys  out  of  a  pair  of  old  oars, 
which  the  two  pirates  pulled  up  after  them  whenever 
an  enemy  hove  in  sight.  When  friends  approached 
it  was  let  down  with  more  than  elaborate  ceremony, 
the  guests  being  escorted  by  Archie  and  welcomed 
on  board  by  Tod. 

Once  Captain  Holt's  short,  sturdy  body  was 
descried  in  the  offing  tramping  the  sand-dunes  on 
his  way  to  Fogarty's,  and  a  signal  flag — part  of 
Mother  Fogarty's  flannel  petticoat,  and  blood-red, 

212 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

as  befitted  the  desperate  nature  of  the  craft  over 
which  it  floated,  was  at  once  set  in  his  honor.  The 
captain  put  his  helm  hard  down  and  came  up  into 
the  wind  and  alongside  the  hulk. 

"  Well !  well !  well !  "  he  cried  in  his  best  quarter 
deck  voice — "  what  are  you  stowaways  doin'  here  ?  " 
and  he  climbed  the  ladder  and  swung  himself  over 
the  battered  rail. 

Archie  took  his  hand  and  led  him  into  the  most 
sacred  recesses  of  the  den,  explaining  to  him  his 
plans  for  defence,  his  armament  of  barrel  hoops, 
and  his  ammunition  of  shells  and  pebbles,  Tod  stand 
ing  silently  by  and  a  little  abashed,  as  was  natural 
in  one  of  his  station;  at  which  the  captain  laughed 
more  loudly  than  before,  catching  Archie  in  his  arms, 
rubbing  his  curly  head  with  his  big,  hard  hand,  and 
telling  him  he  was  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  every 
inch  of  him — none  of  which  did  either  Archie  or 
Tod  understand.  Before  he  climbed  down  the  ladder 
he  announced  with  a  solemn  smile  that  he  thought 
the  craft  was  well  protected  so  far  as  collisions  on 
foggy  nights  were  concerned,  but  he  doubted  if  their 
arms  were  sufficient  and  that  he  had  better  leave 
them  his  big  sea  knife  which  had  been  twice  around 
Cape  Horn,  and  which  might  be  useful  in  lopping 
off  arms  and  legs  whenever  the  cutthroats  got  too 
impudent  and  aggressive;  whereupon  Archie  threw 
his  arms  around  his  grizzled  neck  and  said  he  was  a 

213 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

"bully  commodore/'  and  that  if  he  would  come  and 
live  with  them  aboard  the  hulk  they  would  obey  his 
orders  to  a  man. 

Archie  leaned  over  the  rotten  rail  and  saw  the 
old  salt  stop  a  little  way  from  the  hulk  and  stand 
looking  at  them  for  some  minutes  and  then  wave  his 
hand,  at  which  the  boys  waved  back,  but  the  lad 
did  not  see  the  tears  that  lingered  for  an  instant  on 
the  captain's  eyelids,  and  which  the  sea-breeze  caught 
away;  nor  did  he  hear  the  words,  as  the  captain 
resumed  his  walk :  "  He's  all  I've  got  left,  and  yet 
he  don't  know  it  and  I  can't  tell  him.  Ain't  it  hell  ?  " 

Neither  did  they  notice  that  he  never  once  raised 
his  eyes  toward  the  House  of  Refuge  as  he  passed 
its  side.  A  new  door  and  a  new  roof  had  been 
added,  but  in  other  respects  it  was  to  him  the  same 
grewsome,  lonely  hut  as  on  that  last  night  when  he 
had  denounced  his  son  outside  its  swinging  door. 

Often  the  boys  made  neighborly  visits  to  friendly 
tribes  and  settlers.  Fogarty  was  one  of  these,  and 
Doctor  Cavendish  was  another.  The  doctor's  coun 
try  was  a  place  of  buttered  bread  and  preserves  and 
a  romp  with  Rex,  who  was  almost  as  feeble  as  Meg 
had  been  in  his  last  days.  But  Fogarty's  cabin  was  a 
mine  of  never-ending  delight.  In  addition  to  the 
quaint  low  house  of  clapboards  and  old  ship-timber, 
with  its  sloping  roof  and  little  toy  windows,  so  unlike 
his  own  at  Yardley,  and  smoked  ceilings,  there  was 

214 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

a  scrap  heap  piled  up  and  scattered  over  the  yard 
which  in  itself  was  a  veritable  treasure-house.  Here 
were  rusty  chains  and  wooden  figure-heads  of  broken- 
nosed,  blind  maidens  and  tailless  dolphins.  Here 
were  twisted  iron  rods,  fish-baskets,  broken  lobster- 
pots,  rotting  seines  and  tangled,  useless  nets — some 
used  as  coverings  for  coops  of  restless  chickens — old 
worn-out  rope,  tangled  rigging — everything  that  a 
fisherman  who  had  spent  his  life  on  Barnegat  beach 
could  pull  from  the  surf  or  find  stranded  on  the 
sand. 

Besides  all  these  priceless  treasures,  there  was  an 
old  boat  lying  afloat  in  a  small  lagoon  back  of  the 
house,  one  of  those  seepage  pools  common  to  the 
coast — a  boat  which  Fogarty  had  patched  with  a  bit 
of  sail-cloth,  and  for  which  he  had  made  two  pairs 
of  oars,  one  for  each  of  the  "  crew,"  as  he  called  the 
lads,  and  which  Archie  learned  to  handle  with  such 
dexterity  that  the  old  fisherman  declared  he  would 
make  a  first-class  boatman  when  he  grew  up,  and 
would  "  shame  the  whole  bunch  of  'em." 

But  these  two  valiant  buccaneers  were  not  to  re 
main  in  undisturbed  possession  of  the  Bandit's  Home 
with  its  bewildering  fittings  and  enchanting  possi 
bilities — not  for  long.  The  secret  of  the  uses  to 
which  the  stranded  craft  had  been  put,  and  the 
attendant  fun  which  Commodore  Tod  and  his  daunt 
less  henchman,  Archibald  Cobden,  Esquire,  were 

215 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABNEGAT 

daily  getting  out  of  its  battered  timbers,  had  already 
become  public  property.  The  youth  of  Barnegat — 
the  very  young  youth,  ranging  from  nine  to  twelve, 
and  all  boys — received  the  news  at  first  with  hilarious 
joy.  This  feeling  soon  gave  way  to  unsuppressed 
indignation,  followed  by  an  active  bitterness  when 
they  realized  in  solemn  conclave — the  meeting  was 
held  in  an  open  lot  on  Saturday  morning — that  the 
capture  of  the  craft  had  been  accomplished,  not  by 
dwellers  under  Barnegat  Light,  to  whom  every  piece 
of  sea-drift  from  a  tomato-can  to  a  full-rigged  ship 
rightfully  belonged,  but  by  a  couple  of  aliens,  one  of 
whom  wore  knee-pants  and  a  white  collar, — a  distinc 
tion  in  dress  highly  obnoxious  to  these  lords  of  the 
soil. 

All  these  denizens  of  Barnegat  had  at  one  time 
or  another  climbed  up  the  sloop's  chains  and  peered 
dowTL  the  hatchway  to  the  sand  covering  the  keelson, 
and  most  of  them  had  used  it  as  a  shelter  behind 
which,  in  swimming-time,  they  had  put  on  or  peeled 
off  such  mutilated  rags  as  covered  their  nakedness, 
but  no  one  of  them  had  yet  conceived  the  idea  of 
turning  it  into  a  Bandit's  Home.  That  touch  of 
the  ideal,  that  gilding  of  the  commonplace,  had  been 
reserved  for  the  brain  of  the  curly-haired  boy  who, 
with  dancing  eyes,  his  sturdy  little  legs  resting  on 
Tod's  shoulder,  had  peered  over  the  battered  rail, 
and  who,  with  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  had  shouted: 

216 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

"  Oh,  cracky !  isn't  it  nice,  Tod !  It's  got  a  place  we 
can  fix  up  for  a  robbers'  den;  and  we'll  be  bandits 
and  have  a  flag.  Oh,  come  up  here!  You  never 
saw  anything  so  fine,"  etc.,  etc. 

When,  therefore,  Scootsy  Mulligan,  aged  nine,  son 
of  a  ship-caulker  who  worked  in  Martin  Farguson's 
ship-yard,  and  Sandy  Plummer,  eldest  of  three,  and 
their  mother  a  widow — plain  washing  and  ironing, 
two  doors  from  the  cake-shop — heard  that  that 
French  "  spad,"  Arch  Cobden  what  lived  up  to  Yard- 
ley,  and  that  red-headed  Irish  cub,  Tod  Fogarty — 
Tod's  hair  had  turned  very  red — had  pre-empted  the 
Black  Tub,  as  the  wreck  was  irreverently  called, 
claiming  it  as  their  very  own,  "  and-a-sayin'  they 
wuz  pirates  and  bloody  Turks  and  sich,"  these  two 
quarrelsome  town  rats  organized  a  posse  in  lower 
Barnegat  for  its  recapture. 

Archie  was  sweeping  the  horizon  from  his  perch 
on  the  "  poop-deck  "  when  his  eagle  eye  detected  a 
strange  group  of  what  appeared  to  be  human  beings 
advancing  toward  the  wreck  from  the  direction  of 
Barnegat  village.  One,  evidently  a  chief,  was  in 
the  lead,  the  others  following  bunched  together.  All 
were  gesticulating  wildly.  The  trusty  henchman 
immediately  gave  warning  to  Tod,  who  was  at  work 
in  the  lower  hold  arranging  a  bundle  of  bean-poles 
which  had  drifted  inshore  the  night  before — part  of 
the  deck-load,  doubtless,  of  some  passing  vessel. 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT    • 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir !  "  cried  the  henchman  with  a  hoist 
of  his  knee-pants,  as  a  prelude  to  his  announce 
ment. 

"  Ay,  ay,  yerself ! "  rumbled  back  the  reply. 
"  What's  up  ? "  The  commodore  had  not  read  as 
deeply  in  pirate  lore  as  had  Archie,  and  was  not, 
therefore,  so  ready  with  its  lingo. 

"  Band  of  savages,  sir,  approaching  down  the 
beach." 

"  Where  away  ?  "  thundered  back  the  commodore, 
his  authority  now  asserting  itself  in  the  tones  of 
his  voice. 

"  On  the  starboard  bow,  sir — six  or  seven  of  'em." 

"  Armed  or  peaceable  ?  " 

"  Armed,  sir.     Scootsy  Mulligan  is  leadin'  'em." 

"  Scootsy  Mulligan !  Crickety !  he's  come  to  make 
trouble,"  shouted  back  Tod,  climbing  the  ladder  in 
a  hurry — it  was  used  as  a  means  of  descent  into  the 
shallow  hold  when  not  needed  outside.  "  Where  are 
they  ?  Oh,  yes !  I  see  'em — lot  of  'em,  ain't  they  ? 
Saturday,  and  they  ain't  no  school.  Say,  Arch,  what 
are  we  goin'  to  do  ?  "  The  terminal  vowels  softening 
his  henchman's  name  were  omitted  in  grave  situ 
ations  ;  so  was  the  pirate  lingo. 

"  Do !  "  retorted  Archie,  his  eyes  snapping. 
"  Why,  we'll  fight  'em ;  that's  what  we  are  pirates 
for.  Fight  'em  to  the  death.  Hurray !  They're  not 
coming  aboard — no  sir-ee!  You  go  down,  Toddy 

218 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

[the  same  free  use  of  terminals] ,  and  get  two  of  the 
biggest  bean-poles  and  I'll  run  up  the  death  flag. 
We've  got  stones  and  shells  enough.  Hurry — big 
ones,  mind  you !  " 

The  attacking  party,  their  leader  ahead,  had  now 
reached  the  low  sand  heap  marking  the  grave  of  the 
former  wreck,  but  a  dozen  yards  away — the  sand  had 
entombed  it  the  year  before. 

"  You  fellers  think  yer  durned  smart,  don't  ye  ?  " 
yelled  Mr.  William  Mulligan,  surnamed  "  Scootsy  " 
from  his  pronounced  fleetness  of  foot.  "  We're  goin' 
to  run  ye  out  o'  that  Tub.  'Tain't  yourn,  it's  ourn — 
ain't  it,  fellers  ?  " 

A  shout  went  up  in  answer  from  the  group  on  the 
hillock. 

"  You  can  come  as  friends,  but  not  as  enemies," 
cried  Archie  grandiloquently.  "  The  man  who  sets 
foot  on  this  ship  without  permission  dies  like  a  dog. 
We  sail  under  the  blood-red  flag !  "  and  Archie  struck 
an  attitude  and  pointed  to  the  fragment  of  mother 
Fogarty's  own  nailed  to  a  lath  and  hanging  limp  over 
the  rail. 

"  Hi !  hi !  hi !  "  yelled  the  gang  in  reply.  "  Oh, 
ain't  he  a  beauty !  Look  at  de  cotton  waddin'  on  his 
head!"  (Archie's  cropped  curls.)  "Say,  sissy, 
does  yer  mother  know  ye're  out  ?  Throw  that  ladder 
down;  we're  comin'  up  there — don't  make  no  dif- 
f'rence  whether  we  got  yer  permish  or  not — and 

219 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEGAT 

we'll  knock  the  stuffin'  out  o'  ye  if  ye  put  up  any  job 
on  us.    H'ist  out  that  ladder !  " 

"  Death  and  no  quarter !  "  shouted  back  Archie, 
opening  the  big  blade  of  Captain  Holt's  pocket  knife 
and  grasping  it  firmly  in  his  wee  hand.  "  We'll 
defend  this  ship  with  the  last  drop  of  our  blood !  " 

"  Ye  will,  will  ye !  "  retorted  Scootsy.  "  Come  on, 
fellers — go  for  'em!  I'll  show  'em,"  and  he  dodged 
under  the  sloop's  bow  and  sprang  for  the  overhanging 
chains. 

Tod  had  now  clambered  up  from  the  hold.  Under 
his  arm  were  two  stout  hickory  saplings.  One  he  gave 
to  Archie,  the  other  he  kept  himself. 

"  Give  them  the  shells  first,"  commanded  Archie, 
dodging  a  beach  pebble ;  "  and  when  their  hands  come 
up  over  the  rail  let  them  have  this,"  and  he  waved 
the  sapling  over  his  head.  "  Run,  Tod, — they're 
trying  to  climb  up  behind.  I'll  take  the  bow.  Avast 
there,  ye  lubbers !  " 

With  this  Archie  dropped  to  his  knees  and 
crouched  close  to  the  heel  of  the  rotting  bowsprit, 
out  of  the  way  of  the  flying  missiles — each  boy's 
pockets  were  loaded — and  looking  cautiously  over 
the  side  of  the  hulk,  waited  until  Scootsy's  dirty 
fingers — he  was  climbing  the  chain  hand  over  hand, 
his  feet  resting  on  a  boy  below  him — came  into 
view. 

"  Off  there,  or  I'll  crack  your  fingers !  " 
220 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

"  Crack  and  be " 

Bang!  went  Archie's  hickory  and  down  dropped 
the  braggart,  his  oath  lost  in  his  cries. 

"  He  smashed  me  fist !  He  smashed  me  fist !  Oh ! 
Oh !  "  whined  Scootsy,  hopping  about  with  the  pain, 
sucking  the  injured  hand  and  shaking  its  mate  at 
Archie,  who  was  still  brandishing  the  sapling  and 
yelling  himself  hoarse  in  his  excitement. 

The  attacking  party  now  drew  off  to  the  hillock 
for  a  council  of  war.  Only  their  heads  could  be  seen 
— their  bodies  lay  hidden  in  the  long  grass  of  the 
dune. 

Archie  and  Tod  were  now  dancing  about  the  deck 
in  a  delirium  of  delight — calling  out  in  true  piratical 
terms,  "We  die,  but  we  never  surrender!''  Tod 
now  and  then  falling  into  his  native  vernacular  to 
the  effect  that  he'd  "  knock  the  liver  and  lights  out 
o'  the  hull  gang,"  an  expression  the  meaning  of  which 
wras  wholly  lost  on  Archie,  he  never  having  cleaned 
a  fish  in  his  life. 

Here  a  boy  in  his  shirt-sleeves  straightened  up  in 
the  yellow  grass  and  looked  seaward.  Then  Sandy 
Plummer  gave  a  yell  and  ran  to  the  beach,  rolling  up 
what  was  left  of  his  trousers  legs,  stopping  now  and 
then  to  untie  first  one  shoe  and  then  the  other.  Two 
of  the  gang  followed  on  a  run.  When  the  three 
reached  the  water's  edge  they  danced  about  like 
Crusoe's  savages,  waving  their  arms  and  shouting. 

221 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

Sandy  by  this  time  had  stripped  off  his  clothes  and 
had  dashed  into  the  water.  A  long  plank  from  some 
lumber  schooner  was  drifting  up  the  beach  in  the 
gentle  swell  of  the  tide.  Sandy  ran  abreast  of  it 
for  a  time,  sprang  into  the  surf,  threw  himself  upon 
it  flat  like  a  frog,  and  then  began  paddling  shoreward. 
The  other  two  now  rushed  into  the  water,  grasping 
the  near  end  of  the  derelict,  the  whole  party  pushing 
and  paddling  until  it  was  hauled  clean  of  the  brine 
and  landed  high  on  the  sand. 

A  triumphant  yell  here  came  from  the  water's 
edge,  and  the  balance  of  the  gang — there  \vere  seven 
in  all — rushed  to  the  help  of  the  dauntless  three. 

Archie  heaped  a  pile  of  pebbles  within  reach  of 
his  hand  and  waited  the  attack.  What  the  savages 
were  going  to  do  with  the  plank  neither  he  nor  Tod 
could  divine.  The  derelict  was  now  dragged  over  the 
sand  to  the  hulk,  Tod  and  Archie  pelting  its  rescuers 
with  stones  and  shells  as  they  came  within  short 
range. 

"  Up  with  her,  fellers !  "  shouted  Sandy,  who,  since 
Scootsy's  unmanly  tears,  had  risen  to  first  place. 
"  Run  it  under  the  bowsprit — up  with  her — there 
she  goes !  Altogether !  " 

Archie  took  his  stand,  his  long  sapling  in  his  hand, 
and  waited.  He  thought  first  he  would  unseat  the 
end  of  the  plank,  but  it  was  too  far  below  him  and 
then  again  he  would  be  exposed  to  their  volleys  of 

222 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

stones,  and  if  he  was  hurt  he  might  not  get  back  on 
his  craft.  Tod,  who  had  resigned  command  in  favor 
of  his  henchman  after  Archie's  masterly  defence  in 
the  last  fight,  stood  behind  him.  Thermopylae  was 
a  narrow  place,  and  so  was  the  famous  Bridge  of 
Horatius.  He  and  his  faithful  Tod  would  now  make 
the  fight  of  their  lives.  Both  of  these  close  shaves 
for  immortality  were  closed  books  to  Tod,  but  Archie 
knew  every  line  of  their  records,  Doctor  John  having 
spent  many  an  hour  reading  to  him,  the  boy  curled 
up  in  his  lap  while  Jane  listened. 

Sandy,  emboldened  by  the  discovery  of  the  plank, 
made  the  first  rush  up  and  was  immediately  knocked 
from  his  perch  by  Tod,  whose  pole  swung  around  his 
head  like  a  flail.  Then  Scootsy  tried  it,  crawling 
up,  protecting  his  head  by  ducking  it  under  his  el 
bows,  holding  meanwhile  by  his  hand.  Tod's  blows 
fell  about  his  back,  but  the  boy  struggled  on  until 
Archie  reached  over  the  gunwale,  and  with  a  twist 
of  his  wrist,  using  all  his  strength,  dropped  the 
invader  to  the  sand  below. 

The  success  of  this  mode  of  attack  was  made  appar 
ent,  provided  they  could  stick  to  the  plank.  Five 
boys  now  climbed  up.  Archie  belabored  the  first 
one  with  the  pole  and  Tod  grappled  with  the  second, 
trying  to  throw  him  from  the  rail  to  the  sand,  some 
ten  feet  below,  but  the  rat  close  behind  him,  in  spite 
of  their  efforts,  reached  forward,  caught  the  rail, 

223 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

and  scrambled  up  to  his  mate's  assistance.  In  an 
other  instant  both  had  leaped  to  the  sloop's  deck. 

"  Back !  back !  Run,  Toddy !  "  screamed  Archie, 
waving  his  arms.  "  Get  on  the  poop-deck ;  we  can 
lick  them  there.  Run !  " 

Tod  darted  back,  and  the  two  defenders  clearing 
the  intervening  rotten  timbers  with  a  bound,  sprang 
upon  the  roof  of  the  old  cabin — Archie's  "  poop." 

With  a  whoop  the  savages  followed,  jumping  over 
the  holes  in  the  planking  and  avoiding  the  nails  in 
the  open  beams. 

In  the  melee  Archie  had  lost  his  pole,  and  was 
now  standing,  hat  off,  his  blue  eyes  flashing,  all  the 
blood  of  his  overheated  little  body  blazing  in  his  face. 
The  tears  of  defeat  were  trembling  under  his  eye 
lids.  He  had  been  outnumbered,  but  he  would  die 
game.  In  his  hand  he  carried,  unconsciously  to 
himself,  the  big-bladed  pocket  knife  the  captain  had 
given  him.  He  would  as  soon  have  used  it  on  his 
mother  as  upon  one  of  his  enemies,  but  the  Barnegat 
invaders  were  ignorant  of  that  fact,  knives  being  the 
last  resort  in  their  environment. 

"  Look  out,  Sandy !  "  yelled  Scootsy  to  his  leader, 
who  was  now  sneaking  up  to  Archie  with  the  move 
ment  of  an  Indian  in  ambush; — "he's  drawed  a 
knife." 

Sandy  stopped  and  straightened  himself  within 
three  feet  of  Archie.  His  hand  still  smarted  from 

224 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

the  blow  Archie  had  given  it.  The  "  spad  "  had  not 
stopped  a  second  in  that  attack,  and  he  might  not  in 
this;  the  next  thing  he  knew  the  knife  might  be 
between  his  ribs. 

"  Drawed  a  knife,  hev  ye !  "  he  snarled.  "  Drawed 
a  knife,  jes'  like  a  spad  that  ye  are!  Ye  oughter 
put  yer  hair  in  curl-papers !  " 

Archie  looked  at  the  harmless  knife  in  his  hand. 

"  I  can  fight  you  with  my  fists  if  you  are  bigger 
than  me,"  he  cried,  tossing  the  knife  down  the  open 
hatch  way  into  the  sand  below.  "  Hold  my  coat, 
Tod/7  and  he  began  stripping  off  his  little  jacket. 

"  I  ain't  fightin'  no  spads,"  sneered  Sandy.  He 
didn't  want  to  fight  this  one.  "  Yer  can't  skeer 
nobody.  You'll  draw  a  pistol  next.  Yer  better  go 
home  to  yer  mammy,  if  ye  kin  find  her." 

"  He  ain't  got  no  mammy,"  snarled  Scootsy. 
"  He's  a  pick-up — me  father  says  so." 

Archie  sprang  forward  to  avenge  the  insult,  but 
before  he  could  reach  Scootsy's  side  a  yell  arose 
from  the  bow  of  the  hulk. 

"  Yi !  yi !  Run,  fellers !  Here  comes  old  man 
Fogarty!  he's  right  on  top  o'  ye!  Not  that  side— 
this  way.  Yi !  yi !  " 

The  invaders  turned  and  ran  the  length  of  the 
deck,  scrambled  over  the  side  and  dropped  one  after 
the  other  to  the  sand  below  just  as  the  Fogarty  head 
appeared  at  the  bow.  It  was  but  a  step  and  a  spring 

225 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABNEGAT 

for  him,  and  with  a  lurch  he  gained  the  deck  of  the 
wreck. 

"  By  jimmy,  boys,  mother  thought  ye  was  all 
killed !  Has  them  rats  been  botherin'  ye  ?  Ye 
oughter  broke  the  heads  of  'em.  Where  did  they 
get  that  plank?  Come  'shore,  did  it?  Here,  Tod, 
catch  hold  of  it;  I  jes'  wanted  a  piece  o'  noorin' 
like  that.  Why,  ye're  all  het  up,  Archie!  Come, 
son,  come  to  dinner ;  ye'll  git  cooled  off,  and  mother's 
got  a  mess  o'  clams  for  ye.  Never  mind  'bout  the 
ladder;  I'll  lift  it  down.'' 

On  the  way  over  to  the  cabin,  Fogarty  and  Tod 
carrying  the  plank  and  Archie  walking  beside  them, 
the  fisherman  gleaned  from  the  boys  the  details  of 
the  fight.  Archie  had  recovered  the  captain's  knife 
and  it  was  now  in  his  hand. 

"  Called  ye  a  '  pick-up '  did  he,  the  rat,  and  said 
ye  didn't  have  no  mother.  He's  a  liar !  If  ye  ain't 
got  a  mother,  and  a  good  one,  I  don't  know  who  has. 
That's  the  way  with  them  town-crabs,  allus  cussin' 
somebody  better'n  themselves." 

When  Fogarty  had  tilted  the  big  plank  against 
the  side  of  the  cabin  and  the  boys  had  entered  the 
kitchen  in  search  of  the  mess  of  clams,  the  fisherman 
winked  to  his  wife,  jerked  his  head  meaningly  over 
one  shoulder,  and  Mrs.  Fogarty,  in  answer,  followed 
him  out  to  the  woodshed. 

"  Them  sneaks  from  Barnegat,  Mulligan's  and 
226 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

Farguson's  boys,  and  the  rest  of  'em,  been  lettin'  out 
on  Archie :  callin'  him  names,  savin'  he  ain't  got  no 
mother  and  he's  one  o'  them  pass-ins  ye  find  on  yer 
doorstep  in  a  basket.  I  laughed  it  off  and  he  'peared 
to  forgit  it,  but  I  thought  he  might  ask  ye,  an'  so 
I  wanted  to  tip  ye  the  wink." 

"  Well,  ye  needn't  worry.  I  ain't  goin'  to  tell 
him  what  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  wife,  surprised 
that  he  should  bring  her  all  the  way  out  to  the  wood 
shed  to  tell  her  a  thing  like  that. 

"  But  ye  do  know,  don't  ye  I  " 

"  All  I  know  is  what  Uncle  Ephraim  told  me  four 
or  five  years  ago,  and  he's  so  flighty  half  the  time 
and  talks  so  much  ye  can't  believe  one-half  he  says — 
something  about  Miss  Jane  comin'  across  Archie's 
mother  in  a  horsepital  in  Paris,  or  some'er's  and 
promisin'  her  a-dyin'  that  she'd  look  after  the  boy, 
and  she  has.  She'd  do  that  here  if  there  was  women 
and  babies  up  to  Doctor  John's  horsepital  'stead  o? 
men.  It's  jes'  like  her,"  and  Mrs.  Fogarty,  not  to 
lose  her  steps,  stooped  over  a  pile  of  wood  and  began 
gathering  up  an  armful. 

"  Well,  she  ain't  his  mother,  ye  know7,"  rejoined 
Fogarty,  helping  his  wife  with  the  sticks.  "  That's 
what  they  slammed  in  his  face  to-day,  and  he'll  git 
it  ag'in  as  he  grows  up.  But  he  don't  want  to  hear 
it  from  us." 

"  And  he  won't.  Miss  Jane  ain't  no  fool.  She 
227 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARXEGAT 

knows  more  about  him  than  anybody  else,  and  when 
she  gits  ready  to  tell  him  she'll  tell  him.  Don't 
make  no  difference  who  his  mother  was — the  one  he's 
got  now  is  good  enough  for  anybody.  Tod  would 
have  been  dead  half  a  dozen  times  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her  and  Doctor  John,  and  there  ain't  nobody 
knows  it  better'n  me.  It's  just  like  her  to  let  Archie 
come  here  so  much  with  Tod;  she  knows  I  ain't 
goin'  to  let  nothin'  happen  to  him.  And  as  for 
mothers,  Sam  Fogarty,"  here  Mrs.  Fogarty  lifted  her 
free  hand  and  shook  her  finger  in  a  positive  way — 
"  when  Archie  gits  short  of  mothers  he's  got  one  right 
here,  don't  make  no  difference  what  you  or  anybody 
else  says,"  and  she  tapped  her  broad  bosom  mean 
ingly. 

Contrary,  however,  to  Fogarty's  hopes  and  sur 
mises,  Archie  had  forgotten  neither  Sandy's  insult 
nor  Scootsy's  epithet.  "  He's  a  pick-up  "  and  "  he 
ain't  got  no  mammy  "  kept  ringing  in  his  ears  as  he 
walked  back  up  the  beach  to  his  home.  He  remem 
bered  having  heard  the  words  once  before  when  he 
was  some  years  younger,  but  then  it  had  come  from 
a  passing  neighbor  and  was  not  intended  for  him. 
This  time  it  was  flung  square  in  his  face.  Every 
now  and  then  as  he  followed  the  trend  of  the  beach 
on  his  way  home  he  would  stop  and  look  out  over 
the  sea,  watching  the  long  threads  of  smoke  being 
unwound  from  the  spools  of  the  steamers  and  the  sails 

228 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

of  the  fishing-boats  as  they  caught  the  light  of  the 
setting  sun.  The  epithet  worried  him.  It  was  some 
thing  to  be  ashamed  of,  he  knew,  or  they  would  not 
have  used  it. 

Jane,  standing  outside  the  gate-post,  shading  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  scanning  the  village  road,  caught 
sight  of  his  sturdy  little  figure  the  moment  he  turned 
the  corner  and  ran  to  meet  him. 

"  I  got  so  worried — aren't  you  late,  my  son  ?  "  she 
asked,  putting  her  arm  about  him  and  kissing  him 
tenderly. 

"  Yes,  it's  awful  late.  I  ran  all  the  way  from  the 
church  when  I  saw  the  clock.  I  didn't  know  it  was 
past  six.  Oh,  but  we've  had  a  bully  day,  mother! 
And  we've  had  a  fight.  Tod  and  I  were  pirates,  and 
Scootsy  Mulligan  tried  to " 

Jane  stopped  the  boy's  joyous  account  with  a  cry 
of  surprise.  They  were  now  walking  back  to  Yard- 
ley's  gate,  hugging  the  stone  wall. 

"  A  fight!     Oh,  my 'son!" 

"  Yes,  a  bully  fight ;  only  there  were  seven  of  them 
and  only  two  of  us.  That  warn't  fair,  but  Mr. 
Fogarty  says  they  always  fight  like  that.  I  could 
have  licked  'em  if  they  come  on  one  at  a  time,  but 
they  got  a  plank  and  crawled  up " 

"  Crawled  up  where,  my  son  ? "  asked  Jane  in 
astonishment.  All  this  was  an  unknown  world  to 
her.  She  had  seen  the  wreck  and  had  known,  of 

229 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABNEGAT 

course,  that  the  boys  were  making  a  playhouse  of  it, 
but  this  latter  development  was  news  to  her. 

"  Why,  on  the  pirate  ship,  where  we've  got  our 
Bandit's  Home.  Tod  is  commodore  and  I'm  first 
mate.  Tod  and  I  did  all  we  could,  but  they  didn't 
fight  f  rir,  and  Scootsy  called  me  a  '  pick-up  '  and  said 
I  hadn't  any  mother.  I  asked  Mr.  Fogarty  what  he 
meant,  but  he  wouldn't  tell  me.  What's  a  '  pick-up/ 
dearie  ?  "  and  he  lifted  his  face  to  Jane's,  his  honest 
blue  eyes  searching  her  own. 

Jane  caught  her  hand  to  her  side  and  leaned  for 
a  moment  against  the  stone  wall.  This  was  the 
question  which  for  years  she  had  expected  him  to 
ask — one  to  which  she  had  framed  a  hundred  imagi 
nary  answers.  When  as  a  baby  he  first  began  to 
talk  she  had  determined  to  tell  him  she  was  not  his 
mother,  and  so  get  him  gradually  accustomed  to  the 
conditions  of  his  birth.  But  every  day  she  loved 
him  the  more,  and  every  day  she  had  put  it  off.  To 
day  it  was  no  easier.  He  was  too  young,  she  knew, 
to  take  in  its  full  meaning,  even  if  she  could  muster 
up  the  courage  to  tell  him  the  half  she  was  willing 
to  tell  him — that  his  mother  was  her  friend  and  on 
her  sick-bed  had  entrusted  her  child  to  her  care.  She 
had  wanted  to  wait  until  he  was  old  enough  to  under 
stand,  so  that  she  should  not  lose  his  love  when  he 
came  to  know  the  truth.  There  had  been,  moreover, 
always  this  fear — would  he  love  her  for  shielding 

230 


SCOOTSY'S    EPITHET 

his  mother,  or  would  he  hate  Lucy  when  he  came  to 
know  ?  She  had  once  talked  it  all  over  with  Captain 
Holt,  but  she  could  never  muster  up  the  courage  to 
take  his  advice. 

"  Tell  him/'  he  had  urged.  "  It'll  save  you  a  lot 
o'  trouble  in  the  end.  That'll  let  me  out  and  I  kin 
do  for  him  as  I  want  to.  You've  lived  under  this 
cloud  long  enough — there  ain't  nobody  can  live  a 
lie  a  whole  lifetime,  Miss  Jane.  I'll  take  my  share 
of  the  disgrace  along  of  my  dead  boy,  and  you  ain't 
done  nothin',  God  knows,  to  be  ashamed  of.  Tell 
him!  It's  grease  to  yer  throat  halyards  and  every- 
thing'll  run  smoother  afterward.  Take  my  advice, 
Miss  Jane." 

All  these  things  rushed  through  her  mind  as  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  stone  wall,  Archie's  hand 
in  hers,  his  big  blue  eyes  still  fixed  on  her  own. 

"  Who  said  that  to  you,  my  son  ? "  she  asked  in 
assumed  indifference,  in  order  to  gain  time  in  which 
to  frame  her  answer  and  recover  from  the  shock. 

"  Scootsy  Mulligan." 

"  Is  he  a  nice  boy  ?  " 

"  No,  he's  a  coward,  or  he  wouldn't  fight  as  he 
does." 

"  Then  I  wouldn't  mind  him,  my  boy,"  and  she 
smoothed  back  the  hair  from  his  forehead,  her  eyes 
avoiding  the  boy's  steady  gaze.  It  was  only  when 
someone  opened  the  door  of  the  closet  concealing  this 

231 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

spectre  that  Jane  felt  her  knees  give  way  and  her 
heart  turn  sick  within  her.  In  all  else  she  was 
fearless  and  strong. 

"  Was  he  the  boy  who  said  you  had  no  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  gave  him  an  awful  whack  when  he  came 
up  the  first  time,  and  he  went  heels  over  head." 

"  Well,  you  have  got  a  mother,  haven't  you,  dar 
ling  ? "  she  continued,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  now  that 
Archie  was  not  insistent. 

"  You  bet  I  have !  "  cried  the  boy,  throwing  his 
arms  around  her. 

"  Then  we  won't  either  of  us  bother  about  those 
bad  boys  and  what  they  say,"  she  answered,  stooping 
over  and  kissing  him. 

And  so  for  a  time  the  remembrance  of  Scootsy's 
epithet  faded  out  of  the  boy's  mind. 


232 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HIGH    WATER   AT   YAEDLEY 

Ten  years  have  passed  away. 

The  sturdy  little  fellow  in  knee-trousers  is  a  lad 
of  seventeen,  big  and  strong  for  his  age ;  Tod  is  three 
years  older,  and  the  two  are  still  inseparable.  The 
brave  commander  of  the  pirate  ship  is  now  a  full- 
fledged  fisherman  and  his  father's  main  dependence. 
Archie  is  again  his  chief  henchman,  and  the  two 
spend  many  a  morning  in  Tod's  boat  when  the  blue- 
fish  are  running.  Old  ITogarty  does  not  mind  it; 
he  rather  likes  it,  and  Mother  Fogarty  is  always 
happier  when  the  two  are  together. 

"  If  one  of  7em  gits  overboard,"  she  said  one  day 
to  her  husband,  "  t'other  kin  save  him." 

"  Save  him!  Well,  I  guess !  "  he  replied.  "  Salt 
water  skims  off  Archie  same's  if  he  was  a  white 
bellied  gull;  can't  drown  him  no  more'n  you  kin  a 
can  buoy." 

The  boy  has  never  forgotten  Scootsy's  epithet,  al 
though  he  has  never  spoken  of  it  to  his  mother — 
no  one  knows  her  now  by  any  other  name.  She 

233 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

thought  the  episode  had  passed  out  of  his  mind,  but 
she  did  not  know  everything  that  lay  in  the  boy's 
heart.  He  and  Tod  had  discussed  it  time  and  again, 
and  had  wondered  over  his  own  name  and  that  of 
his  nameless  father,  as  boys  winder,  but  they  had 
come  to  no  conclusion.  No  one  in  the  village  could 
tell  them,  for  no  one  ever  knew.  He  had  asked  the 
doctor,  but  had  only  received  a  curious  answer. 

"  What  difference  does  it  make,  son,  when  you 
have  such  a  mother?  You  have  brought  her  only 
honor,  and  the  world  loves  her  the  better  because  of 
you.  Let  it  rest  until  she  tells  you ;  it  will  only  hurt 
her  heart  if  you  ask  her  now." 

The  doctor  had  already  planned  out  the  boy's 
future;  he  \vas  to  be  sent  to  Philadelphia  to  study 
medicine  when  his  schooling  was  over,  and  was  then 
to  come  into  his  office  and  later  on  succeed  to  his 
practice. 

Captain  Holt  would  have  none  of  it. 

"  He  don't  want  to  saw  off  no  legs,"  the  bluff  old 
man  had  blurted  out  when  he  heard  of  it.  "  He 
wants  to  git  ready  to  take  a  ship  'round  Cape  Horn. 
If  I  had  my  way  I'd  send  him  some'er's  where  he 
could  learn  navigation,  and  that's  in  the  fo'c's'le  of 
a  merchantman.  Give  him  a  year  or  two  before  the 
mast.  I  made  that  mistake  with  Bart — he  loafed 
round  here  too  long  and  when  he  did  git  a  chance 
he  was  too  old." 

234 


HIGH   WATEK   AT    YAEDLEY 

Report  had  it  that  the  captain  was  going  to  leave 
the  lad  his  money,  and  had  therefore  a  right  to 
speak;  but  no  one  knew.  He  was  closer-mouthed 
than  ever,  though  not  so  gruff  and  ugly  as  he  used 
to  be;  Archie  had  softened  him,  they  said,  taking 
the  place  of  that  boy  of  his  he  "  druv  out  to  die  a 
good  many  years  ago." 

Jane's  mind  wavered.  Neither  profession  suited 
her.  She  would  sacrifice  anything  she  had  for  the 
boy  provided  they  left  him  with  her.  Philadelphia 
was  miles  away,  and  she  would  see  him  but  seldom. 
The  sea  she  shrank  from  and  dreaded.  She  had 
crossed  it  twice,  and  both  times  with  an  aching 
heart.  She  feared,  too,  its  treachery  and  cruelty. 
The  waves  that  curled  and  died  on  Barnegat  beach 
— messengers  from  across  the  sea — brought  only  tid 
ings  fraught  with  suffering. 

Archie  had  no  preferences — none  yet.  His  future 
was  too  far  off  to  trouble  him  much.  Nor  did  any 
thing  else  worry  him. 

One  warm  September  day  Archie  turned  into 
Yardley  gate,  his  so'wester  still  on  his  head  framing 
his  handsome,  rosy  face;  his  loose  jacket  open  at 
the  throat,  the  tarpaulins  over  his  arm.  He  had 
been  outside  the  inlet  with  Tod — since  daybreak,  in 
fact — fishing  for  bass  and  weakfish. 

Jane  had  been  waiting  for  him  for  hours.  She 
235 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

held  an  open  letter  in  her  hand,  and  her  face  was 
happier,  Archie  thought  as  he  approached  her,  than 
he  had  seen  it  for  months. 

There  are  times  in  all  lives  when  suddenly  and 
without  warning,  those  who  have  been  growing 
qnietly  by  our  side  impress  their  new  development 
upon  us.  We  look  at  them  in  full  assurance  that 
the  timid  glance  of  the  child  will  be  returned,  and 
are  astounded  to  find  instead  the  calm  gaze  of  the 
man;  or  we  stretch  out  our  hand  to  help  the  falter 
ing  step  and  touch  a  muscle  that  could  lead  a  host. 
Such  changes  are  like  the  breaking  of  the  dawn;  so 
gradual  has  been  their  coming  that  the  full  sun  of 
maturity  is  up  and  away  flooding  the  world  with 
beauty  and  light  before  we  can  recall  the  degrees 
by  which  it  rose. 

Jane  realized  this — and  for  the  first  time — as  she 
looked  at  Archie  swinging  through  the  gate,  waving  his 
hat  as  he  strode  toward  her.  She  saw  that  the  sailor 
had  begun  to  assert  itself.  He  walked  with  an  easy 
swing,  his  broad  shoulders — almost  as  broad  as  the 
captain's  and  twice  as  hard — thrown  back,  his  head 
up,  his  blue  eyes  and  white  teeth  laughing  out  of  a 
face  brown  and  ruddy  with  the  sun  and  wind,  his 
throat  and  neck  bare  except  for  the  silk  handker 
chief — one  of  Tod's — wound  loosely  about  it ;  a  man 
really,  strong  and  tough,  with  hard  sinews  and  capa 
ble  thighs,  back,  and  wrists — the  kind  of  sailorman 

236 


HIGH   WATEE   AT    YAKDLEY 

that  could  wear  tarpaulins  or  broadcloth  at  his  pleas 
ure  and  never  lose  place  in  either  station. 

In  this  rude  awakening  Jane's  heart-strings 
tightened.  She  became  suddenly  conscious  that  the 
Cobden  look  had  faded  out  of  him ;  Lucy's  eyes  and . 
hair  were  his,  and  so  was  her  rounded  chin,  with  its 
dimple,  but  there  was  nothing  else  about  him  that 
recalled  either  her  own  father  or  any  other  Cobden 
she  remembered.  As  he  came  near  enough  for  her 
to  look  into  his  eyes  she  began  to  wonder  how  he  would 
impress  Lucy,  what  side  of  his  nature  would  she  love 
best — his  courage  and  strength  or  his  tenderness  ? 

The  sound  of  his  voice  shouting  her  name  re 
called  her  to  herself,  and  a  thrill  of  pride  illumined 
her  happy  face  like  a  burst  of  sunlight  as  he  tossed 
his  tarpaulins  on  the  grass  and  put  his  strong  arms 
about  her. 

"  Mother,  dear !  forty  black  bass,  eleven  weakfish, 
and  half  a  barrel  of  small  fry — what  do  you  think 
of  that?" 

"  Splendid,  Archie.  Tod  must  be  proud  as  a 
peacock.  But  look  at  this !  "  and  she  held  up  the 
letter.  "  Who  do  you  think  it's  from  ?  Guess  now," 
and  she  locked  one  arm  through  his,  and  the  two 
strolled  back  to  the  house. 

"  Guess  now !  "  she  repeated,  holding  the  letter 
behind  her  back.  The  two  were  often  like  lovers 
together. 

237 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  coaxed.  "  What  kind  of  a  stamp 
has  it  got  ?  " 

61  I^ever  you  mind  about  the  stamp." 

"  Uncle  John — and  it's  about  my  going  to  Phila 
delphia." 

Jane  laughed.     "  Uncle  John  never  saw  it." 

"Then  it's  from —     Oh,  you  tell  me,  mother!" 

"  No — guess.  Think  of  everybody  you  ever  heard 
of.  Those  you  have  seen  and  those  you " 

"Oh,  I  know — Aunt  Lucy." 

"  Yes,  and  she's  coming  home.  Home,  Archie, 
think  of  it,  after  all  these  years !  " 

"  Well,  that's  bully !  She  won't  know  me,  will 
she  ?  I  never  sawT  her,  did  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  when  you  were  a  little  fellow."  It  was 
difficult  to  keep  the  tremor  out  of  her  voice. 

"  Will  she  bring  any  dukes  and  high  daddies  with 
her?" 

"  "No"  laughed  Jane,  "  only  her  little  daughter 
Ellen,  the  sweetest  little  girl  you  ever  saw,  she 
writes." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

He  had  slipped  his  arm  around  his  mother's  waist 
now  and  the  two  were  "  toeing  it "  up  the  path,  he 
stopping  every  few  feet  to  root  a  pebble  from  its 
bed.  The  coming  of  the  aunt  was  not  a  great  event 
in  his  life. 

"  Just  seven  her  last  birthday." 
238 


HIGH   WATER   AT    YAEDLEY 

"  All  right,  she's  big  enough.  We'll  take  her  out 
and  teach  her  to  fish.  Hello,  granny!  "  and  the  boy 
loosened  his  arm  as  he  darted  up  the  steps  toward 
Martha.  "  Got  the  finest  mess  of  fish  coming  up  here 
in  a  little  while  you  ever  laid  your  eyes  on,"  he 
shouted,  catching  the  old  nurse's  cap  from  her  head 
and  clapping  it  upon  his  own,  roaring  with  laughter, 
as  he  fled  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen. 

Jane  joined  in  the  merriment  and,  moving  a  chair 
from  the  hall,  took  her  seat  on  the  porch  to  await 
the  boy's  return.  She  was  too  happy  to  busy  herself 
about  the  house  or  to  think  of  any  of  her  outside 
duties.  Doctor  John  would  not  be  in  until  the  after 
noon,  and  so  she  would  occupy  herself  in  thinking 
out  plans  to  make  her  sister's  home-coming  a  joyous 
one. 

As  she  looked  down  over  the  garden  as  far  as 
the  two  big  gate-posts  standing  like  grim  sentinels 
beneath  the  wide  branches  of  the  hemlocks,  and 
saw  how  few  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  old 
home  since  her  girl  sister  had  left  it,  her  heart 
thrilled  with  joy.  Nothing  really  was  different;  the 
same  mass  of  tangled  rose-vines  climbed  over  the 
porch — now  quite  to  the  top  of  the  big  roof,  but 
still  the  same  dear  old  vines  that  Lucy  had  loved  in 
her  childhood;  the  same  honeysuckle  hid  the  posts; 
the  same  box  bordered  the  paths.  The  house  was 
just  as  she  left  it ;  her  bedroom  had  really  never  been 

239 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

touched.  What  few  changes  had  taken  place  she 
would  not  miss.  Meg  would  not  run  out  to  meet 
her,  and  Rex  was  under  a  stone  that  the  doctor  had 
placed  over  his  grave;  nor  would  Ann  Gossaway 
peer  out  of  her  eyrie  of  a  window  and  follow  her 
with  her  eyes  as  she  drove  by ;  her  tongue  was  quiet 
at  last,  and  she  and  her  old  mother  lay  side  by  side 
in  the  graveyard.  Doctor  John  had  exhausted  his 
skill  upon  them  both,  and  Martha,  who  had  forgiven 
her  enemy,  had  sat  by  her  bedside  until  the  end, 
but  nothing  had  availed.  Mrs.  Cavendish  was  dead, 
of  course,  but  she  did  not  think  Lucy  would  care 
very  much.  She  and  Doctor  John  had  nursed  her 
for  months  until  the  end  came,  and  had  then  laid 
her  away  near  the  apple-trees  she  was  so  fond  of. 
But  most  of  the  faithful  hearts  who  had  loved  her 
were  still  beating,  and  all  were  ready  with  a  hearty 
welcome. 

Archie  was  the  one  thing  new — new  to  Lucy.  And 
yet  she  had  no  fear  either  for  him  or  for  Lucy. 
When  she  saw  him  she  would  love  him,  and  when  she 
had  known  him  a  week  she  would  never  be  separated 
from  him  again.  The  long  absence  could  not  have 
wiped  out  all  remembrance  of  the  boy,  nor  would  the 
new  child  crowd  him  from  her  heart. 

When  Doctor  John  sprang  from  his  gig  (the  cus 
tom  of  his  daily  visits  had  never  been  broken)  she 
could  hardly  wait  until  he  tied  his  horse — poor  Bess 

240 


HIGH   WATEE    AT    YARDLEY 

had  long  since  given  out — to  tell  him  the  joyful 
news. 

He  listened  gravely,  his  face  lighting  up  at  her 
happiness.  He  was  glad  for  Jane  and  said  so 
frankly,  but  the  situation  did  not  please  him.  He  at 
heart  really  dreaded  the  effect  of  Lucy's  companion 
ship  on  the  woman  he  loved.  Although  it  had  been 
years  since  he  had  seen  her,  he  had  followed  her 
career,  especially  since  her  marriage,  with  the  great 
est  interest  and  with  the  closest  attention.  He  had 
never  forgotten,  nor  had  he  forgiven  her  long  silence 
of  two  years  after  her  marriage,  during  which  time 
she  had  never  written  Jane  a  line,  nor  had  he  ever 
ceased  to  remember  Jane's  unhappiness  over  it.  Jane 
had  explained  it  all  to  him  on  the  ground  that  Lucy 
was  offended  because  she  had  opposed  the  marriage, 
but  the  doctor  knew  differently.  Nor  had  he  ceased 
to  remember  the  other  letters  which  followed,  and 
how  true  a  story  they  told  of  Lucy's  daily  life  and 
ambitions.  He  could  almost  recall  the  wording  of 
one  of  them.  "  My  husband  is  too  ill,"  it  had  said, 
"  to  go  south  with  me,  and  so  I  will  run  down  to 
Rome  for  a  month  or  so,  for  I  really  need  the 
change."  And  a  later  one,  written  since  his  death, 
in  which  she  wrote  of  her  winter  in  Paris  and  at 
Monte  Carlo,  and  "  how  good  my  mother-in-law  is 
to  take  care  of  Ellen."  This  last  letter  to  her  sister, 
just  received — the  one  he  then  held  in  his  hand,  and 

241 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

which  gave  Jane  such  joy,  and  which  he  was  then 
reading  as  carefully  as  if  it  had  been  a  prescription 
— was  to  his  analytical  mind  like  all  the  rest  of  its 
predecessors.  One  sentence  sent  a  slight  curl  to  his 
lips.  "  I  cannot  stay  away  any  longer  from  my  pre 
cious  sister/'  it  said,  "  and  am  coming  back  to  the 
home  I  adore.  I  have  no  one  to  love  me,  now  that 
my  dear  husband  is  dead,  but  you  and  my  darling 
Ellen." 

The  news  of  Lucy's  expected  return  spread  rap 
idly.  Old  Martha  in  her  joy  was  the  mouthpiece. 
She  gave  the  details  out  at  church  the  Sunday  morn 
ing  following  the  arrival  of  Lucy's  letter.  She  was 
almost  too  ill  to  venture  out,  but  she  made  the  effort, 
stopping  the  worshippers  as  they  came  down  the 
board  walk;  telling  each  one  of  the  good  news,  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  face.  To  the  children  and 
the  younger  generation  the  announcement  made  but 
little  difference ;  some  of  them  had  never  heard  that 
Miss  Jane  had  a  sister,  and  others  only  that  she 
lived  abroad.  Their  mothers  knew,  of  course,  and 
so  did  the  older  men,  and  all  were  pleased  over 
the  news.  Those  of  them  who  remembered  the 
happy,  joyous  girl  with  her  merry  eyes  and  ring 
ing  laugh  were  ready  to  give  her  a  hearty  wel 
come  ;  they  felt  complimented  that  the  distinguished 
lady — fifteen  years'  residence  abroad  and  a  rich  hus- 

242 


HIGH   WATER   AT    YARDLEY 

band  had  gained  her  this  position — should  be  willing 
to  exchange  the  great  Paris  for  the  simple  life  of 
Warehold.  It  touched  their  civic  pride. 

Great  preparations  were  accordingly  made.  Billy 
Tatham's  successor  (his  son) — in  his  best  open  car 
riage — was  drawn  up  at  the  station,  and  Lucy's  drive 
through  the  village  with  some  of  her  numerous  boxes 
covered  with  foreign  labels  piled  on  the  seat  beside 
the  young  man — who  insisted  on  driving  Lucy  and 
the  child  himself — was  more  like  the  arrival  of  a 
princess  revisiting  her  estates  than  anything  else. 
Martha  and  Archie  and  Jane  filled  the  carriage,  with 
little  Ellen  on  Archie's  lap,  and  more  than  one  neigh 
bor  ran  out  of  the  house  and  waved  to  them  as  they 
drove  through  the  long  village  street  and  turned 
into  the  gate. 

Archie  threw  his  arms  around  Lucy  when  he  saw 
her,  and  in  his  open,  impetuous  way  called  her  his 
"  dear  aunty/'  telling  her  how  glad  he  was  that  she 
had  come  to  keep  his  good  mother  from  getting  so 
sad  at  times,  and  adding  that  she  and  granny  had 
not  slept  for  days  before  she  came,  so  eager  were 
they  to  see  her.  And  Lucy  kissed  him  in  return, 
but  with  a  different  throb  at  her  heart.  She  felt 
a  thrill  when  she  saw  how  handsome  and  strong  he 
was,  and  for  an  instant  there  flashed  through  her  a 
feeling  of  pride  that  he  was  her  own  flesh  and  blood. 
Then  there  had  come  a  sudden  revulsion,  strangling 

243 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

every  emotion  but  the  one  of  aversion — an  aversion 
so  overpowering  that  she  turned  suddenly  and  catch 
ing  Ellen  in  her  arms  kissed  her  with  so  lavish  a 
display  of  affection  that  those  at  the  station  who  wit 
nessed  the  episode  had  only  praise  for  the  mother's 
devotion.  Jane  saw  the  kiss  Lucy  had  given  Archie, 
and  a  cry  of  joy  welled  up  in  her  heart,  but  she  lost 
the  shadow  that  followed.  My  lady  of  Paris  was  too 
tactful  for  that. 

Her  old  room  was  all  ready.  Jane,  with  Martha 
helping,  had  spent  days  in  its  preparation.  White 
dimity  curtains  starched  stiff  as  a  petticoat  had  been 
hung  at  the  windows;  a  new  lace  cover  spread  on 
the  little  mahogany,  brass-mounted  dressing-table — 
her  great  grandmother's,  in  fact — with  its  tiny 
swinging  mirror  and  the  two  drawers  (Martha  re 
membered  when  her  bairn  was  just  high  enough  to 
look  into  the  mirror),  and  pots  of  fresh  flowers  placed 
on  the  long  table  on  which  her  books  used  to  rest. 
Two  easy-chairs  had  also  been  brought  up  from  the 
sitting-room  below,  covered  with  new  chintz  and  tied 
with  blue  ribbons,  and,  more  wonderful  still,  a  can 
dle-box  had  been  covered  with  cretonne  and  studded 
with  brass  tacks  by  the  aid  of  Martha's  stiff  fingers 
that  her  bairn  might  have  a  place  in  which  to  put  her 
dainty  shoes  and  slippers. 

When  the  trunks  had  been  carried  upstairs  and 
Martha  with  her  own  hands  had  opened  my  lady's 

244 


HIGH   WATEK    AT    YAKDLEY 

gorgeous  blue  morocco  dressing-case  with  its  bottles 
capped  with  gold  and  its  brushes  and  fittings  em 
blazoned  with  cupids  swinging  in  garlands  of  roses, 
the  poor  woman's  astonishment  knew  no  bounds.  The 
many  scents  and  perfumes,  the  dainty  boxes,  big  and 
little,  holding  various  powders — one  a  red  paste 
which  the  old  nurse  thought  must  be  a  salve,  but 
about  which,  it  is  needless  to  say,  she  was  greatly 
mistaken — as  well  as  a  rabbit's  foot  smirched  with 
rouge  (this  she  determined  to  wash  at  once),  and  a 
tiny  box  of  court-plaster  cut  in  half  moons.  So  many 
things,  in  fact,  did  the  dear  old  nurse  pull  from  this 
wonderful  bag  that  the  modest  little  bureau  could  not 
hold  half  of  them,  and  the  big  table  had  to  be  brought 
up  and  swept  of  its  plants  and  belongings. 

The  various  cosmetics  and  their  uses  were  espe 
cial  objects  of  comment. 

"  Did  ye  break  one  of  the  bottles,  darlin'  ? "  she 
asked,  sniffing  at  a  peculiar  perfume  which  seemed 
to  permeate  everything.  "Some  of  'em  must  have 
smashed ;  it's  awful  strong  everywhere — smell  that  " 
— and  she  held  out  a  bit  of  lace  which  she  had  taken 
from  the  case,  a  dressing-sacque  that  Lucy  had  used 
on  the  steamer. 

Lucy  laughed.  "  And  you  don't  like  it  ?  How 
funny,  you  dear  old  thing!  That  was  made  spe 
cially  for  me ;  no  one  else  in  Paris  has  a  drop." 

And  then  the  dresses!  Particularly  the  one  she 
245 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

was  to  wear  the  first  night — a  dress  flounced  and 
furbelowed  and  of  a  creamy  white  (she  still  wore 
mourning — delicate  purples  shading  to  white — the 
exact  tone  for  a  husband  six  months  dead).  And 
the  filmy  dressing-gowns,  and,  more  wonderful  than 
all,  the  puff  of  smoke  she  was  to  sleep  in,  held  to 
gether  by  a  band  of  violet  ribbon;  to  say  nothing 
of  the  dainty  slippers  bound  about  with  swan's- 
down,  and  the  marvellous  hats,  endless  silk  stockings 
of  mauve,  white,  and  black,  and  long  and  short 
gloves.  In  all  her  life  Martha  had  never  seen  or 
heard  of  such  things.  The  room  was  filled  with  them 
and  the  two  big  closets  crammed  to  overflowing,  and 
yet  a  dozen  trunks  were  not  yet  unpacked,  including 
the  two  small  boxes  holding  little  Ellen's  clothes. 

The  night  was  one  long  to  be  remembered.  Every 
one  said  the  Manor  House  had  not  been  so  gay  for 
years.  And  they  were  all  there — all  her  old  friends 
and  many  of  Jane's  new  ones,  who  for  years  had 
looked  on  Lucy  as  one  too  far  above  them  in  station 
to  be  spoken  of  except  with  bated  breath. 

The  intimates  of  the  house  came  early.  Doctor 
John  first,  with  his  grave  manner  and  low  voice — 
so  perfectly  dressed  and  quiet:  Lucy  thought  she 
had  never  seen  his  equal  in  bearing  and  demeanor, 
nor  one  so  distinguished-looking — not  in  any  circle  in 
Europe;  and  Uncle  Ephraim,  grown  fat  and  gouty, 
leaning  on  a  cane,  but  still  hearty  and  wholesome, 

246 


HIGH   WATEK   AT    YAKDLEY 

and  overjoyed  to  see  her;  and  Pastor  Dellenbaugh — 
his  hair  was  snow-white  now — and  his  complacent 
and  unruffled  wife;  and  the  others,  including  Cap 
tain  Holt,  who  came  in  late.  It  was  almost  a  repeti 
tion  of  that  other  home-coming  years  before,  when 
they  had  gathered  to  greet  her,  then  a  happy,  joyous 
girl  just  out  of  school. 

Lucy  in  their  honor  wore  the  dress  that  had  so 
astonished  Martha,  and  a  diamond-studded  ornament 
which  she  took  from  her  jewel-case  and  fastened  in 
her  hair.  The  dress  followed  the  wonderful  curves 
of  her  beautiful  body  in  all  its  dimpled  plumpness 
and  the  jewel  set  off  to  perfection  the  fresh,  oval 
face,  laughing  blue  eyes — wet  forget-me-nots  were 
the  nearest  their  color — piquant,  upturned  nose  and 
saucy  mouth.  The  color  of  the  gown,  too,  harmon 
ized  both  with  the  delicate  pink  of  her  cheeks  and 
with  the  tones  of  her  rather  too  full  throat  showing 
above  the  string  of  pearls  that  clasped  it. 

Jane  wore  a  simple  gray  silk  gown  which  followed 
closely  the  slender  and  almost  attenuated  lines  of 
her  figure.  This  gown  the  doctor  always  loved  be 
cause,  as  he  told  her,  it  expressed  so  perfectly  the 
simplicity  of  her  mind  and  life.  Her  only  jewels 
were  her  deep,  thoughtful  eyes,  and  these,  to-night, 
were  brilliant  with  joy  over  her  sister's  return. 

As  Jane  moved  about  welcoming  her  guests  the 
doctor,  whose  eyes  rarely  left  her  face,  became  con- 

247 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

scious  that  at  no  time  in  their  lives  had  the  contrast 
between  the  two  sisters  been  greater. 

One,  a  butterfly  of  thirty-eight,  living  only  in  the 
glow  of  the  sunlight,  radiant  in  plumage,  alighting 
first  on  one  flower  and  then  on  another,  but  always 
on  flowers,  never  on  weeds;  gathering  such  honey  as 
suited  her  taste;  never  resting  where  she  might  by 
any  chance  be  compelled  to  use  her  feet,  but  always 
poised  in  air ;  a  woman,  rich,  brilliant,  and  beautiful, 
and — here  was  the  key-note  of  her  life — always,  year 
in  and  year  out,  warmed  by  somebody's  admiration, 
whose  she  didn't  much  mind  nor  care,  so  that  it 
gratified  her  pride  and  relieved  her  of  ennui.  The 
other — and  this  one  he  loved  with  his  whole  soul 
— a  woman  of  forty-six,  with  a  profound  belief 
in  her  creeds ;  quixotic  sometimes  in  her  standards, 
but  always  sincere ;  devoted  to  her  traditions,  to  her 
friends  and  to  her  duty;  unselfish,  tender-hearted, 
and  self-sacrificing;  whose  feet,  though  often  tired 
and  bleeding,  had  always  trodden  the  earth. 

As  Lucy  greeted  first  one  neighbor  and  then  an 
other,  sometimes  with  one  hand,  sometimes  with  two, 
offering  her  cheek  now  and  then  to  some  old  friend 
who  had  known  her  as  a  child,  Jane's  heart  swelled 
with  something  of  the  pride  she  used  to  have  when 
Lucy  wras  a  girl.  Her  beautiful  sister,  she  saw,  had 
lost  none  of  the  graciousness  of  her  old  manner,  nor 
of  her  tact  in  making  her  guests  feel  perfectly  at 

248 


HIGH   WATER   AT    YARDLEY 

home.  Jane  noticed,  too — and  this  was  new  to  her 
— a  certain  well-bred  condescension,  so  delicately 
managed  as  never  to  be  offensive — more  the  air  of 
a  woman  accustomed  to  many  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men  and  women,  and  who  chose  to  be  agreeable 
as  much  to  please  herself  as  to  please  her  guests. 

And  yet  with  all  this  poise  of  manner  and  conde 
scending  graciousness,  there  would  now  and  then 
dart  from  Lucy's  eyes  a  quick,  searching  glance  of 
inquiry,  as  she  tried  to  read  her  guests'  thoughts, 
followed  by  a  relieved  look  on  her  own  face  as  she 
satisfied  herself  that  no  whisper  of  her  past  had  ever 
reached  them.  These  glances  Jane  never  caught. 

Doctor  John  was  most  cordial  in  his  greeting  and 
talked  to  her  a  long  time  about  some  portions  of  Eu 
rope,  particularly  a  certain  cafe  in  Dresden  where 
he  used  to  dine,  and  another  in  Paris  frequented  by 
the  beau  monde.  She  answered  him  quite  frankly, 
telling  him  of  some  of  her  own  experiences  in  both 
places,  quite  forgetting  that  she  was  giving  him 
glimpses  of  her  own  life  while  away — glimpses  which 
she  had  kept  carefully  concealed  from  Jane  or  Mar 
tha.  She  was  conscious,  however,  after  he  had  left 
her  of  a  certain  uncomfortable  feeling  quivering 
through  her  as  his  clear,  steadfast  eyes  looked  into 
hers.  He  listened,  and  yet  she  thought  she  detected 
his  brain  working  behind  his  steadfast  gaze.  It  was 
as  if  he  was  searching  for  some  hidden  disease.  "  He 

249 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

knows  something/7  she  said  to  herself,  when  the 
doctor  moved  to  let  someone  else  take  his  place. 
"  How  much  I  can't  tell.  I'll  get  it  all  out  of 
sister." 

Blunt  and  bluff  Captain  Holt,  white-whiskered 
and  white-haired  now,  but  strong  and  hearty,  gave 
her  another  and  a  different  shock.  What  his  first 
words  would  be  when  they  met  and  how  she  would 
avoid  discussing  the  subject  uppermost  in  their  minds 
if,  in  his  rough  way,  he  insisted  on  talking  about  it, 
was  one  of  the  things  that  had  worried  her  greatly 
when  she  decided  to  come  home,  for  there  was  never 
any  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  his  knowledge.  But 
she  misjudged  the  captain,  as  had  a  great  many 
others  who  never  looked  beneath  the  rugged  bark 
covering  his  heart  of  oak. 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come  at  last,"  he  said  gravely, 
hardly  touching  her  hand  in  welcome,  "  you  ought 
to  have  been  here  before.  Jane's  got  a  fine  lad  of 
her  own  that  she's  bringin'  up ;  when  you  know  him 
ye'll  like  him." 

She  did  not  look  at  him  when  she  answered,  but 
a  certain  feeling  of  relief  crept  over  her.  She  saw 
that  the  captain  had  buried  the  past  and  intended 
never  to  revive  it. 

The  stern  look  on  his  face  only  gave  way  when 
little  Ellen  came  to  him  of  her  own  accord  and 
climbing  up  into  his  lap  said  in  her  broken  English 

250 


HIGH   WATEE   AT    YARDLEY 

that  she  heard  he  was  a  great  captain  and  that  she 
wanted  him  to  tell  her  some  stories  like  her  good 
papa  used  to  tell  her.  "  He  was  gray  like  you/'  she 
said,  "  and  big,"  and  she  measured  the  size  with  her 
plump  little  arms  that  showed  out  of  her  dainty 
French  dress. 

With  Doctor  John  and  Captain  Holt  out  of  the 
way  Lucy's  mind  was  at  rest.  "  Nobody  else  round 
about  Yardley  except  these  two  knows/'  she  kept 
saying  to  herself  with  a  bound  of  relief,  "  and  for 
these  I  don't  care.  The  doctor  is  Jane's  slave,  and 
the  captain  is  evidently  wise  enough  not  to  uncover 
skeletons  locked  up  in  his  own  closet." 

These  things  settled  in  her  mind,  my  lady  gave 
herself  up  to  whatever  enjoyment,  compatible  with 
her  rapidly  fading  mourning,  the  simple  surround 
ings  afforded,  taking  her  cue  from  the  conditions  that 
confronted  her  and  ordering  her  conduct  accordingly 
and  along  these  lines:  Archie  was  her  adopted 
nephew,  the  son  of  an  old  friend  of  Jane's,  and  one 
whom  she  would  love  dearly,  as,  in  fact,  she  would 
anybody  else  whom  Jane  had  brought  up ;  she  herself 
was  a  gracious  widow  of  large  means  recovering 
from  a  great  sorrow;  one  who  had  given  up  the 
delights  of  foreign  courts  to  spend  some  time  among 
her  dear  people  who  had  loved  her  as  a  child.  Here 
for  a  time  would  she  bring  up  and  educate  her 
daughter. 

251 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  To  be  once  more  at  home,  and  in  dear  old  Ware- 
hold,  too !  "  she  had  said  with  upraised  Madonna- 
like  eyes  and  clasped  hands  to  a  group  of  women  who 
were  hanging  on  every  word  that  dropped  from  her 
pretty  lips.  "  Do  you  know  what  that  is  to  me  ? 
There  is  hardly  a  day  I  have  not  longed  for  it.  Pray, 
forgive  me  if  I  do  not  come  to  see  you  as  often  as 
I  would,  but  I  really  hate  to  be  an  hour  outside  of 
the  four  walls  of  my  precious  home." 


252 


CHAPTEE   XV 

A   PACKAGE    OF    LETTERS 

Under  the  influence  of  the  new  arrival  it  was  not 
at  all  strange  that  many  changes  were  wrought  in 
the  domestic  life  at  Cohden  Manor. 

My  lady  was  a  sensuous  creature,  loving  color  and 
flowers  and  the  dainty  appointments  of  life  as  much 
in  the  surroundings  of  her  home  as  in  the  adorn 
ment  of  her  person,  and  it  was  not  many  weeks  before 
the  old-fashioned  sitting-room  had  been  transformed 
into  a  French  boudoir.  In  this  metamorphosis  she 
had  used  but  few  pieces  of  new  furniture — one  or 
two,  perhaps,  that  she  had  picked  up  in  the  village, 
as  well  as  some  bits  of  mahogany  and  brass  that  she 
loved — but  had  depended  almost  entirely  upon  the 
rearrangement  of  the  heirlooms  of  the  family.  With 
the  boudoir  idea  in  view,  she  had  pulled  the  old 
tables  out  from  the  walls,  drawn  the  big  sofa  up  to 
the  fire,  spread  a  rug — one  of  her  own — before  the 
mantel,  hung  new  curtains  at  the  windows  and 
ruffled  their  edges  with  lace,  banked  the  sills  witK 
geraniums  and  begonias,  tilted  a  print  or  two  be- 

253 


THE    TIDES    OE    BAKKEGAT 

side  the  clock,  scattered  a  few  books  and  magazines 
over  the  centre-table,  on  which  she  had  placed  a  big, 
generous  lamp,  under  whose  umbrella  shade  she  could 
see  to  read  as  she  sat  in  her  grandmother's  rocking- 
chair — in  fact,  had,  with  that  taste  inherent  in  some 
women — touched  with  a  knowing  hand  the  dead 
things  about  her  and  made  them  live  and  mean 
something; — her  talisman  being  an  unerring  sense 
of  what  contributed  to  personal  comfort.  Heretofore 
Doctor  John  had  been  compelled  to  drag  a  chair  half 
way  across  the  room  in  order  to  sit  and  chat  with 
Jane,  or  had  been  obliged  to  share  her  seat  on  the 
sofa,  too  far  from  the  hearth  on  cold  days  to  be 
comfortable.  ~Now  he  could  either  stand  on  the 
hearth-rug  and  talk  to  her,  seated  in  one  corner  of 
the  pulled-up  sofa,  her  work-basket  on  a  small  table 
beside  her,  or  he  could  drop  into  a  big  chair  within 
reach  of  her  hand  and  still  feel  the  glow  of  the  fire. 
Jane  smiled  at  the  changes  and  gave  Lucy  free  rein 
to  do  as  she  pleased.  Her  own  nature  had  never 
required  these  nicer  luxuries ;  she  had  been  too  busy, 
and  in  these  last  years  of  her  life  too  anxious,  to 
think  of  them,  and  so  the  room  had  been  left  as  in 
the  days  of  her  father. 

The  effect  of  the  rearrangement  was  not  lost  on 
the  neighbors.  They  at  once  noticed  the  sense  of 
cosiness  everywhere  apparent,  and  in  consequence 
called  twice  as  often,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 

254 


A   PACKAGE    OF    LETTEES 

old-fashioned  sitting-room  became  a  stopping-place 
for  everybody  who  had  half  an  hour  to  spare. 

These  attractions,  with  the  aid  of  a  generous  hospi 
tality,  Lucy  did  her  best  to  maintain,  partly  because 
she  loved  excitement  and  partly  because  she  intended 
to  win  the  good-will  of  her  neighbors — those  who 
might  be  useful  to  her.  The  women  succumbed  at 
once.  Not  only  were  her  manners  most  gracious,  but 
her  jewels  of  various  kinds,  her  gowns  of  lace  and 
frou-frou,  her  marvellous  hats,  her  assortment  of 
parasols,  her  little  personal  belongings  and  niceties — 
gold  scissors,  thimbles,  even  the  violet  ribbons  that 
rippled  through  her  transparent  underlaces — so  dif 
ferent  from  those  of  any  other  woman  they  knew — 
were  a  constant  source  of  wonder  and  delight.  To 
them  she  was  a  beautiful  Lady  Bountiful  who  had 
fluttered  down  among  them  from  heights  above,  and 
whose  departure,  should  it  ever  take  place,  would 
leave  a  gloom  behind  that  nothing  could  illumine. 

To  the  men  she  was  more  reserved.  Few  of  them 
ever  got  beyond  a  handshake  and  a  smile,  and  none 
of  them  ever  reached  the  borders  of  intimacy.  Popu 
larity  in  a  country  village  could  never,  she  knew,  be 
gained  by  a  pretty  woman  without  great  discretion. 
She  explained  her  foresight  to  Jane  by  telling  her 
that  there  was  no  man  of  her  world  in  Warehold 
but  the  doctor,  and  that  she  wouldn't  think  of  setting 
her  cap  for  him  as  she  would  be  gray-haired  before 

255 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

he  would  have  the  courage  to  propose.  Then  she 
kissed  Jane  in  apology,  and  breaking  out  into  a 
rippling  laugh  that  Martha  heard  upstairs,  danced 
out  of  the  room. 

Little  Ellen,  too,  had  her  innings;  not  only  was 
she  prettily  dressed,  presenting  the  most  joyous  of 
pictures,  as  with  golden  curls  flying  about  her  shoul 
ders  she  flitted  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  like  a  sprite, 
but  she  was  withal  so  polite  in  her  greetings,  drop 
ping  to  everyone  a  little  French  courtesy  when  she 
spoke,  and  all  in  her  quaint,  broken  dialect,  that 
everybody  fell  in  love  with  her  at  sight.  None  of 
the  other  mothers  had  such  a  child,  and  few  of  them 
knew  that  such  children  existed. 

Jane  w^atched  the  workings  of  Lucy's  mind  with 
many  misgivings.  She  loved  her  lightheartedness 
and  the  frank,  open  way  with  which  she  greeted 
everybody  who  crossed  their  threshold.  She  loved, 
too,  to  see  her  beautifully  gowned  and  equipped  and 
to  hear  the  flattering  comments  of  the  neighbors  on 
her  appearance  and  many  charms ;  but  every  now  and 
then  her  ear  caught  an  insincere  note  that  sent  a 
shiver  through  her.  She  saw  that  the  welcome  Lucy 
gave  them  was  not  from  her  heart,  but  from  her  lips ; 
due  to  her  training,  no  doubt,  or  perhaps  to  her 
unhappiness,  for  Jane  still  mourned  over  the  un 
happy  years  of  Lucy's  life — an  unhappiness,  had  she 
known  it,  which  had  really  ended  with  Archie's  safe 

256 


A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTERS 

adoption  and  Bart's  death.  Another  cause  of  anxiety 
was  Lucy's  restlessness.  Every  day  she  must  have 
some  new  excitement — a  picnic  with  the  young  girls 
and  young  men,  private  theatricals  in  the  town  hall, 
or  excursions  to  Barnegat  Beach,  where  they  were 
building  a  new  summer  hotel.  Now  and  then  she 
would  pack  her  bag  and  slip  off  to  New  York  or 
Philadelphia  for  days  at  a  time  to  stay  with  friends 
she  had  met  abroad,  leaving  Ellen  with  Jane  and 
Martha.  To  the  older  sister  she  seemed  like  some 
wild,  untamable  bird  of  brilliant  plumage  used  to 
long,  soaring  flights,  perching  first  on  one  dizzy 
height  and  then  another,  from  which  she  could  watch 
the  world  below. 

The  thing,  however,  which  distressed  Jane  most 
was  Lucy's  attitude  towards  Archie.  She  made  every 
allowance  for  her  first  meeting  at  the  station,  and 
knew  that  necessarily  it  must  be  more  or  less  con 
strained,  but  she  had  not  expected  the  almost  cold  in 
difference  with  which  she  had  treated  the  boy  ever 
since. 

As  the  days  went  by  and  Lucy  made  no  effort  to 
attach  Archie  to  her  or  to  interest  herself  either  in 
his  happiness  or  welfare,  Jane  became  more  and  more 
disturbed.  She  had  prayed  for  this  home-coming 
and  had  set  her  heart  on  the  home-building  which 
was  sure  to  follow,  and  now  it  seemed  farther  off 
than  ever.  One  thing  troubled  and  puzzled  her: 

257 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKISTEGAT 

while  Lucy  was  always  kind  to  Archie  indoors,  kiss 
ing  him  with  the  others  when  she  came  down  to 
breakfast,  she  never,  if  she  could  help  it,  allowed  him 
to  walk  with  her  in  the  village,  and  she  never  on  any 
occasion  took  him  with  her  when  visiting  the  neigh 
bors. 

"  Why  not  take  Archie  with  you,  dear  ?  "  Jane 
had  said  one  morning  to  Lucy,  who  had  just  an 
nounced  her  intention  of  spending  a  few  days  in 
Phildelphia  with  Max  Feilding's  sister  Sue,  whom 
she  had  met  abroad  when  Max  was  studying  in 
Dresden — Max  was  still  a  bachelor,  and  his  sister 
kept  house  for  him.  He  was  abroad  at  the  time,  but 
was  expected  by  every  steamer. 

"  Archie  isn't  invited,  you  old  goosie,  and  he  would 
be  as  much  out  of  place  in  Max's  house  as  Uncle 
Ephraim  Tipple  would  be  in  Parliament." 

"  But  they  would  be  glad  to  see  him  if  you  took 
him.  He  is  just  the  age  now  when  a  boy  gets  im 
pressions  which  last  him  through ' 

"  Yes,  the  gawky  and  stumble-over-things  age ! 
Piano-stools,  rugs,  anything  that  comes  in  his  way. 
And  the  impressions  wouldn't  do  him  a  bit  of  good. 
They  might,  in  fact,  do  him  harm,"  and  she  laughed 
merrily  and  spread  her  fingers  to  the  blaze.  A  laugh 
was  often  her  best  shield.  She  had  in  her  time  dealt 
many  a  blow  and  then  dodged  behind  a  laugh  to 
prevent  her  opponent  from  striking  back. 

258 


A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTEKS 

"  But,  Lucy,  don't  you  want  to  do  something  to 
help  him  ? "  Jane  asked  in  a  pleading  tone. 

"  Yes,  whatever  I  can,  but  he  seems  to  me  to  be 
doing  very  well  as  he  is.  Doctor  John  is  devoted 
to  him  and  the  captain  idolizes  him.  He's  a  dear, 
sweet  boy,  of  course,  and  does  you  credit,  but  he's 
not  of  my  world,  Jane,  dear,  and  I'd  have  to  make 
him  all  over  again  before  he  could  fit  into  my  atmos 
phere.  Besides,  he  told  me  this  morning  that  he 
was  going  off  for  a  week  with  some  fisherman  on 
the  beach — some  person  by  the  name  of  Fogarty, 
I  think." 

"  Yes,  a  fine  fellow ;  they  have  been  friends  from 
their  boyhood."  She  was  not  thinking  of  Fogarty, 
but  of  the  tone  of  Lucy's  voice  when  speaking  of  her 
son. 

"  Yes — most  estimable  gentleman,  no  doubt,  this 
Mr.  Fogarty,  but  then,  dear,  we  don't  invite  that 
sort  of  people  to  dinner,  do  we  ?  "  and  another  laugh 
rippled  out. 

{  Yes,  sometimes,"  answered  Jane  in  all  sincerity. 
"  Not  Fogarty,  because  he  would  be  uncomfortable 
if  he  came,  but  many  of  the  others  just  as  humble. 
We  really  have  very  few  of  any  other  kind.  I  like 
them  all.  Many  of  them  love  me  dearly." 

"  Not  at  all  strange ;  nobody  can  help  loving  you," 
and  she  patted  Jane's  shoulder  with  her  jewelled 


fingers. 


259 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

"But  you  like  them,  too,  don't  you?  You  treat 
them  as  if  you  did." 

Lucy  lifted  her  fluted  petticoat,  rested  her  slip 
pered  foot  on  the  fender,  glanced  down  at  the  em 
broidered  silk  stocking  covering  her  ankle,  and  said 
in  a  graver  tone: 

"  I  like  all  kinds  of  people — in  their  proper  place. 
This  is  my  home,  and  it  is  wise  to  get  along  with 
one's  neighbors.  Besides,  they  all  have  tongues  in 
their  heads  like  the  rest  of  the  human  race,  and  it  is 
just  as  well  to  have  them  wag  for  you  as  against 
you." 

Jane  paused  for  a  moment,  her  eyes  watching  the 
blazing  logs,  and  asked  with  almost  a  sigh : 

"  You  don't  mean,  dear,  that  you  never  intend 
to  help  Archie,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Never  is  a  long  word,  Jane.  Wait  till  he  grows 
up  and  I  see  what  he  makes  of  himself.  He  is  now 
nothing  but  a  great  animal,  well  built  as  a  young  bull, 
and  about  as  awkward." 

Jane's  eyes  flashed  and  her  shoulders  straightened. 
The  knife  had  a  double  edge  to  its  blade. 

"  He  is  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  Lucy,"  she 
said  with  a  ring  of  indignation  in  her  voice.  "  You 
don't  treat  Ellen  so ;  why  should  you  Archie  ?  " 

Lucy  took  her  foot  from  the  fender,  dropped  her 
skirts,  and  looked  at  Jane  curiously.  From  under 
neath  the  half-closed  lids  of  her  eyes  there  flashed 

260 


A   PACKAGE    OF    LETTEKS 

a  quick  glance  of  hate — a  look  that  always  came  into 
Lucy's  eyes  whenever  Jane  connected  her  name  with 
Archie's. 

"  Let  us  understand  each  other,  sister,"  she  said 
icily.  "  I  don't  dislike  the  boy.  When  he  gets  into 
trouble  I'll  help  him  in  any  way  I  can,  but  please 
remember  he's  not  my  boy — he's  yours.  You  took 
him  from  me  with  that  understanding  and  I  have 
never  asked  him  back.  He  can't  love  two  mothers. 
You  say  he  has  been  your  comfort  all  these  years. 
Why,  then,  do  you  want  to  unsettle  his  mind  ?  " 

Jane  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  Lucy  with 
searching  eyes — looked  as  a  man  looks  when  some 
one  he  must  not  strike  has  flung  a  glove  in  his  face. 

"  Do  you  really  love  anything,  Lucy  I  "  she  asked 
in  a  lower  voice,  her  eyes  still  fastened  on  her  sister's. 

"  Yes,  Ellen  and  you." 

"  Did  you  love  her  father  ?  "  she  continued  in  the 
same  direct  tone. 

"  Y-e-s,  a  little He  was  the  dearest  old  man 

in  the  world  and  did  his  best  to  please  me ;  and  then 
he  was  never  very  well.  But  why  talk  about  him, 
dear?" 

"  And  you  never  gave  him  anything  in  return  for 
all  his  devotion  ?  "  Jane  continued  in  the  same  cross- 
examining  voice  and  with  the  same  incisive  tone. 

"  Yes,  my  companionship — whenever  I  could. 
About  what  you  give  Doctor  John,"  and  she  looked 

261 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

at  Jane  with  a  sly  inquiry  as  she  laughed  gently  to 
herself. 

Jane  bit  her  lips  and  her  face  flushed  scarlet.  The 
cowardly  thrust  had  not  wounded  her  own  heart. 
It  had  only  uncovered  the  love  of  the  man  who  lay 
enshrined  in  its  depths.  A  sudden  sense  of  the  in 
justice  done  him  arose  in  her  mind  and  then  her  own 
helplessness  in  it  all. 

"  I  would  give  him  everything  I  have,  if  I  could/7 
she  answered  simply,  all  her  insistency  gone,  the  tears 
starting  to  her  eyes. 

Lucy  threw  her  arms  about  her  sister  and  held 
her  cheek  to  her  own. 

"  Dear,  I  was  only  in  fun ;  please  forgive  me. 
Everything  is  so  solemn  to  you.  Now  kiss  me  and 
tell  me  you  love  me." 

That  night  when  Captain  Holt  came  in  to  play 
with  the  little  "  Pond  Lily,"  as  he  called  Ellen,  Jane 
told  him  of  her  conversation  with  Lucy,  not  as  a 
reflection  on  her  sister,  but  because  she  thought  he 
ought  to  know  how  she  felt  toward  Archie.  The 
kiss  had  wiped  out  the  tears,  but  the  repudiation  of 
Archie  still  rankled  in  her  breast. 

The  captain  listened  patiently  to  the  end.  Then 
he  said  with  a  pause  between  each  word: 

"  She's  sailin'  without  her  port  and  starboard 
lights,  Miss  Jane.  One  o'  these  nights  with  the  tide 
settin'  she'll  run  up  ag'in  somethin'  solid  in  a  fog, 

262 


A   PACKAGE    OF   LETTEES 

and  then  —  God  help  her  !  If  Bart  had  lived  he  might 
have  come  home  and  done  the  decent  thing,  and  then 
we  could  git  her  into  port  some'er's  for  repairs,  but 
that's  over  now.  She  better  keep  her  lights  trimmed. 
Tell  her  so  for  me." 

What  this  "  decent  thing  "  was  he  never  said  — 
perhaps  he  had  but  a  vague  idea  himself.  Bart  had 
injured  Lucy  and  should  have  made  reparation,  but 
in  what  way  except  by  marriage  —  he,  perhaps,  never 
formulated  in  his  own  mind. 

Jane  winced  under  the  captain's  outburst,  but  she 
held  her  peace.  She  knew  how  outspoken  he  was 
and  how  unsparing  of  those  who  differed  from  him 
and  she  laid  part  of  his  denunciation  to  this  cause. 

Some  weeks  after  this  conversation  the  captain 
started  for  Yardley  to  see  Jane  on  a  matter  of  busi 
ness,  and  incidentally  to  have  a  romp  with  the  Pond 
Lily.  It  was  astonishing  how  devoted  the  old  sea- 
dog  was  to  the  child,  and  how  she  loved  him  in  re 
turn.  "  My  big  bear,"  she  used  to  call  him,  tugging 
away  at  his  gray  whiskers.  On  his  way  he  stopped 
at  the  post-office  for  his  mail.  It  was  mid-winter  and 
the  roads  were  partly  blocked  with  snow,  making 
walking  difficult  except  for  sturdy  souls  like  Captain 


"  Here,  Cap'n  Holt,  yer  jest  the  man  I  been 
a-waitin'  for,"  cried  Miss  Tucher,  the  postmistress, 
from  behind  the  sliding  window.  "  If  you  ain't  goin' 

263 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

up  to  the  Cobdens,  ye  kin,  can't  ye?  Here's  a  lot 
o'  letters  jest  come  that  I  know  they're  expect  in'. 
Miss  Lucy's"  (many  of  the  village  people  still  called 
her  Miss  Lucy,  not  being  able  to  pronounce  her  dead 
husband's  name)  "  come  in  yesterday  and  seems  as 
if  she  couldn't  wait.  This  storm  made  everything 
late  and  the  mail  got  in  after  she  left.  There  ain't 
nobody  comin'  out  to-day  and  here's  a  pile  of  'em — 
furrin'  most  of  'em.  I'd  take  'em  myself  if  the  snow 
warn't  so  deep.  Don't  mind,  do  ye?  I'd  hate  to 
have  her  disapp'inted,  for  she's  jes'  's  sweet  as  they 
make  'em." 

"  Don't  mind  it  a  mite,  Susan  Tucher,"  cried  the 
captain.  "  Goin'  there,  anyhow.  Got  some  business 
with  Miss  Jane.  Lord,  what  a  wad  o'  them !  " 

"  That  ain't  half  what  she  gits  sometimes,"  re 
plied  the  postmistress,  "  and  most  of  'em  has  seals 
and  crests  stamped  on  'em.  Some  o'  them  furrin 
lords,  I  guess,  she  met  over  there." 

These  letters  the  captain  held  in  his  hand  when 
he  pushed  open  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  and  stood 
before  the  inmates  in  his  rough  pea-jacket,  his  ruddy 
face  crimson  with  the  cold,  his  half-moon  whiskers 
all  the  whiter  by  contrast. 

"  Good-mornin'  to  the  hull  o'  ye !  "  he  shouted. 
"  Cold  as  blue  blazes  outside,  I  tell  ye,  but  ye  look 
snug  enough  in  here.  Hello,  little  Pond  Lily!  why 
ain't  you  out  on  your  sled?  Put  two  more  roses  in 

264- 


A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTERS 

your  cheeks  if  there  was  room  for  'em.  There, 
ma'am,"  and  he  nodded  to  Lucy  and  handed  her  the 
letters,  "  that's  'bout  all  the  mail  that  come  this 
mornin'.  There  warn't  nothin'  else  much  in  the 
bag.  Susan  Tucher  asked  me  to  bring  'em  up  to  you 
'count  of  the  weather  and  'count  o'  your  being  in 
such  an  all-fired  hurry  to  read  'em." 

Little  Ellen  was  in  his  arms  before  this  speech 
was  finished  and  everybody  else  on  their  feet  shaking 
hands  with  the  old  salt,  except  poor,  deaf  old  Martha, 
who  called  out,  "Good-mornin',  Captain  Holt,"  in 
a  strong,  clear  voice,  and  in  rather  a  positive  way, 
but  who  kept  her  seat  by  the  fire  and  continued  her 
knitting ;  and  complacent  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh,  the  pas 
tor's  wife,  who,  by  reason  of  her  position,  never  got 
up  for  anybody. 

The  captain  advanced  to  the  fire,  Ellen  still  in 
his  arms,  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh  and 
extended  three  fingers,  rough  as  lobster's  claws  and 
as  red,  to  the  old  nurse.  Of  late  years  he  never  met 
Martha  without  feeling  that  he  owed  her  an  apology 
for  the  way  he  had  treated  her  the  day  she  begged 
him  to  send  Bart  away.  So  he  always  tried  to  make 
it  up  to  her,  although  he  had  never  told  her  why. 

"  Hope  you're  better,  Martha  ?  Heard  ye  was 
under  the  weather;  was  that  so?  Ye  look  spry 
'nough  now,"  he  shouted  in  his  best  quarter-deck 
voice. 

265 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  Yes,  but  it  warn't  much.  Doctor  John  fixed  me 
up,"  Martha  replied  coldly.  She  had  no  positive  ani 
mosity  toward  the  captain — not  since  he  had  shown 
some  interest  in  Archie — but  she  could  never  make  a 
friend  of  him. 

During  this  greeting  Lucy,  who  had  regained  her 
chair,  sat  with  the  letters  unopened  in  her  lap.  None 
of  the  eagerness  Miss  Tucher  had  indicated  was  ap 
parent.  She  seemed  more  intent  on  arranging  the 
folds  of  her  morning-gown  accentuating  the  graceful 
outlines  of  her  well-rounded  figure.  She  had  glanced 
through  the  package  hastily,  and  had  found  the  one 
she  wanted  and  knew  that  it  wras  there  warm  under 
her  touch — the  others  did  not  interest  her. 

"  What  a  big  mail,  dear,"  remarked  Jane,  drawing 
up  a  chair.  "  Aren't  you  going  to  open  it  ?  "  The 
captain  had  found  a  seat  by  the  window  and  the 
child  was  telling  him  everything  she  had  done  since 
she  last  saw  him. 

"  Oh,  yes,  in  a  minute,"  replied  Lucy.  "  There's 
plenty  of  time."  With  this  she  picked  up  the  bunch 
of  letters,  ran  her  eye  through  the  collection,  and 
then,  with  the  greatest  deliberation,  broke  one .  seal 
after  another,  tossing  the  contents  on  the  table.  Some 
she  merely  glanced  at,  searching  for  the  signatures 
and  ignoring  the  contents;  others  she  read  through 
to  the  end.  One  was  from  Dresden,  from  a  student 
she  had  known  there  the  year  before.  This  was 

266 


A   PACKAGE    OF   LETTEKS 

sealed  with  a  wafer  and  bore  the  address  of  the  cafe 
where  he  took  his  meals.  Another  was  stamped  with 
a  crest  and  emitted  a  slight  perfume;  a  third  was 
enlivened  by  a  monogram  in  gold  and  began :  "  Ma 
chere  amie,"  in  a  bold  round  hand.  The  one  under 
her  hand  she  did  not  open,  but  slipped  into  the  pocket 
of  her  dress.  The  others  she  tore  into  bits  and  threw 
upon  the  blazing  logs. 

"  I  guess  if  them  fellers  knew  how  short  a  time  it 
would  take  ye  to  heave  their  cargo  overboard," 
blurted  out  the  captain,  "  they'd  thought  a  spell  'fore 
they  mailed  their  manifests." 

Lucy  laughed  good-naturedly  and  Jane  watched 
the  blaze  roar  up  the  wide  chimney.  The  captain 
settled  back  in  his  chair  and  was  about  to  continue 
his  "  sea  yarn,"  as  he  called  it,  to  little  Ellen,  when 
he  suddenly  loosened  the  child  from  his  arms,  and 
leaning  forward  in  his  seat  toward  where  Jane  sat, 
broke  out  with: 

"  God  bless  me !  I  believe  I'm  wool-gathering.  I 
clean  forgot  what  I  come  for.  It  is  you,  Miss  Jane, 
I  come  to  see,  not  this  little  curly  head  that'll  git 
me  ashore  yet  with  her  cunnin'  ways.  They're  goin' 
to  build  a  new  life-saving  station  down  Barnegat 
way.  That  Dutch  brig  that  come  ashore  last  fall  in 
that  so'easter  and  all  them  men  drownded  could  have 
been  saved  if  we'd  had  somethin'  to  help  'em  with. 
We  did  all  we  could,  but  that  House  of  Refuge  ain't 

267 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

half  rigged  and  most  o'  the  time  ye  got  to  break  the 
door  open  to  git  at  what  there  is  if  ye're  in  a  hurry, 
which  you  allus  is.  They  ought  to  have  a  station 
with  everything  'bout  as  it  ought  to  be  and  a  crew 
on  hand  all  the  time;  then,  when  somethin'  comes 
ashore  you're  right  there  on  top  of  it.  That  one 
down  to  Squam  is  just  what's  wanted  here." 

"  Will  it  be  near  the  new  summer  hotel  ?  "  asked 
Lucy  carelessly,  just  as  a  matter  of  information,  and 
without  raising  her  eyes  from  the  rings  on  her  beauti 
ful  hands. 

"  'Bout  half  a  mile  from  the  front  porch,  ma'am  " 
— he  preferred  calling  her  so — "  from  what  I  hear. 
'Tain't  located  exactly  yet,  but  some'er's  along  there. 
I  was  down  with  the  Gov'ment  agent  yesterday." 

"  Who  will  take  charge  of  it,  captain  ?  "  inquired 
Jane,  reaching  over  her  basket  in  search  of  her 
scissors. 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  come  up  for.  They're  talkin' 
about  me,"  and  the  captain  put  his  hands  behind 
Ellen's  head  and  cracked  his  big  knuckles  close  to 
her  ear,  the  child  laughing  with  delight  as  she 
listened. 

The  announcement  was  received  with  some  sur 
prise.  Jane,  seeing  Martha's  inquiring  face,  as  if 
she  wanted  to  hear,  repeated  the  captain's  words  to 
her  in  a  loud  voice.  Martha  laid  down  her  knitting 
and  looked  at  the  captain  over  her  spectacles. 

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A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTERS 

"  Why,  would  you  take  it,  captain  ?  "  Jane  asked 
in  some  astonishment,  turning  to  him  again. 

"  Don't  know  but  I  would.  Ain't  no  better  job 
for  a  man  than  savin'  lives.  I've  helped  kill  a  good 
many;  'bout  time  now  I  come  'bout  on  another  tack. 
I'm  doin'  nothin' — haven't  been  for  years.  If  I 
could  get  the  right  kind  of  a  crew  'round  me — men 
I  could  depend  on — I  think  I  could  make  it  go." 

"  If  you  couldn't  nobody  could,  captain,"  said 
Jane  in  a  positive  way.  "  Have  you  picked  out  your 
crew?" 

"  Yes,  three  or  four  of  'em.  Isaac  Polhemus  and 
Tom  Morgan — Tom  sailed  with  me  on  my  last  voy 
age — and  maybe  Tod." 

"  Archie's  Tod  ?  "  asked  Jane,  replacing  her  scis 
sors  and  searching  for  a  spool  of  cotton. 

"  Archie's  Tod,"  repeated  the  captain,  nodding 
his  head,  his  big  hand  stroking  Ellen's  flossy  curls. 
"  That's  what  brought  me  up.  I  want  Tod,  and  he 
won't  go  without  Archie.  Will  ye  give  him  to 
me?" 

"  My  Archie !  "  cried  Jane,  dropping  her  work 
and  staring  straight  at  the  captain. 

"  Your  Archie,  Miss  Jane,  if  that's  the  way  you 
put  it,"  and  he  stole  a  look  at  Lucy.  She  was  con 
scious  of  his  glance,  but  she  did  not  return  it;  she 
merely  continued  listening  as  she  twirled  one  of  the 
rings  on  her  finger. 

269 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  Well,  but,  captain,  isn't  it  very  dangerous  work  ? 
Aren't  the  men  often  drowned  ? "  protested  Jane. 

"  Anything' s  dangerous  'bout  salt  water  that's 
worth  the  doin'.  I've  stuck  to  the  pumps  seventy-two 
hours  at  a  time,  but  I'm  here  to  tell  the  tale." 

"  Have  you  talked  to  Archie  ?  " 

"  !N"o,  but  Tod  has.  They've  fixed  it  up  betwixt 
'em.  The  boy's  dead  set  to  go." 

"  Well,  but  isn't  he  too  young  ?  " 

"  Young  or  old,  he's  tough  as  a  marline-spike — 
Al,  and  copper  fastened  throughout.  There  ain't 
a  better  boatman  on  the  beach.  Been  that  way  ever 
since  he  was  a  boy.  Won't  do  him  a  bit  of  harm  to 
lead  that  kind  of  life  for  a  year  or  two.  If  he  was 
mine  it  wouldn't  take  me  a  minute  to  tell  what 
I'd  do." 

Jane  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  her  eyes  on  the 
crackling  logs,  and  began  patting  the  carpet  with  her 
foot.  Lucy  became  engrossed  in  a  book  that  lay  on 
the  table  beside  her.  She  didn't  intend  to  take  any 
part  in  the  discussion.  If  Jane  wanted  Archie  to 
serve  as  a  common  sailor  that  was  Jane's  business. 
Then  again,  it  was,  perhaps,  just  as  well  for  a 
number  of  reasons  to  have  him  under  the  captain's 
care.  He  might  become  so  fond  of  the  sea  as  to  want 
to  follow  it  all  his  life. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Lucy  ? "  asked 
Jane. 

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A    PACKAGE    OF   LETTEES 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  I  don't 
really.  I've  lived  so  long  away  from  here  I  don't 
know  what  the  young  men  are  doing  for  a  living. 
He's  always  been  fond  of  the  sea,  has  he  not,  Captain 
Holt  ? " 

"  Allus,"  said  the  captain  doggedly;  "it's  in  his 
blood."  Her  answer  nettled  him.  "  You  ain't  got 
no  objections,  have  you,  ma'am  ?  "  he  asked,  looking 
straight  at  Lucy. 

Lucy's  color  came  and  went.  His  tone  offended 
her,  especially  before  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh,  who,  al 
though  she  spoke  but  seldom  in  public  had  a  tongue 
of  her  own  when  she  chose  to  use  it.  She  was  not 
accustomed  to  being  spoken  to  in  so  brusque  a  way. 
She  understood  perfectly  well  the  captain's  covert 
meaning,  but  she  did  not  intend  either  to  let  him 
see  it  or  to  lose  her  temper. 

"  Oh,  not  the  slightest,"  she  answered  with  a  light 
laugh.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  will  be  the  making 
of  him  to  be  with  you.  Poor  boy,  he  certainly  needs 
a  father's  care." 

The  captain  winced  in  turn  under  the  retort  and 
his  eyes  flashed,  but  he  made  no  reply. 

Little  Ellen  had  slipped  out  of  the  captain's  lap 
during  the  colloquy.  She  had  noticed  the  change  in 
her  friend's  tone,  and,  with  a  child's  intuition, 
had  seen  that  the  harmony  was  in  danger  of  being 
broken.  She  stood  by  the  captain's  knee,  not  know- 

271 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

ing  whether  to  climb  back  again  or  to  resume  her  seat 
by  the  window.  Lucy,  noticing  the  child's  discom 
fort,  called  to  her: 

"  Come  here,  Ellen,  you  will  tire  the  captain.'7 

The  child  crossed  the  room  and  stood  by  her 
mother  while  Lucy  tried  to  rearrange  the  glossy  curls, 
tangled  by  too  close  contact  with  the  captain's  broad 
shoulder.  In  the  attempt  Ellen  lost  her  balance  and 
fell  into  her  mother's  lap. 

"  Oh,  Ellen !  "  said  her  mother  coldly ;  "  stand  up, 
dear.  You  are  so  careless.  See  how  you  have 
mussed  my  gown.  Now  go  over  to  the  window  and 
play  with  your  dolls." 

The  captain  noted  the  incident  and  heard  Lucy's 
reproof,  but  he  made  no  protest.  Neither  did  he  con 
tradict  the  mother's  statement  that  the  little  girl 
had  tired  him.  His  mind  was  occupied  with  other 
things — the  tone  of  the  mother's  voice  for  one,  and 
the  shade  of  sadness  that  passed  over  the  child's  face 
for  another.  Erom  that  moment  he  took  a  positive 
dislike  to  her. 

"  Well,  think  it  over,  Miss  Jane,"  he  said,  rising 
from  his  seat  and  reaching  for  his  hat.  "  Plenty  of 
time  'bout  Archie.  Life-savin'  house  won't  be  fin 
ished  for  the  next  two  or  three  months ;  don't  expect 
to  git  into  it  till  June.  Wonder,  little  Pond  Lily,  if 
the  weather's  goin'  to  be  any  warmer  ?  "  He  slipped 
his  hand  under  the  child's  chin  and  leaning  over  her 

272 


A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTEKS 

head  peered  out  of  the  window.  "  Don't  look  like 
it,  does  it,  little  one  ?  Looks  as  if  the  snow  would 
hold  on.  Hello!  here  comes  the  doctor.  I'll  wait  a 
bit — good  for  sore  eyes  to  see  him,  and  I  don't  git 
a  chance  every  day.  Ask  him  'bout  Archie, 
Miss  Jane.  He'll  tell  ye  whether  the  lad's  too 
young." 

There  came  a  stamping  of  feet  on  the  porch  out 
side  as  Doctor  John  shook  the  snow  from  his  boots, 
and  the  next  instant  he  stepped  into  the  room  bring 
ing  with  him  all  the  freshness  and  sunshine  of  the 
outside  world. 

"  Good-morning,  good  people,"  he  cried,  "  every 
one  of  you !  How  very  snug  and  cosey  you  look  here ! 
Ah,  captain,  where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself  ? 
And  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh!  This  is  indeed  a  pleasure. 
I  have  just  passed  the  dear  doctor,  and  he  is  looking 
as  young  as  he  did  ten  years  ago.  And  my  Lady 
Lucy!  Down  so  early!  Well,  Mistress  Martha,  up 
again  I  see ;  I  told  you  you'd  be  all  right  in  a  day  or 
two." 

This  running  fire  of  greetings  was  made  with  a 
pause  before  each  inmate  of  the  room — a  hearty 
hand-shake  for  the  bluff  captain,  the  pressing  of  Mrs. 
Dellenbaugh's  limp  fingers,  a  low  bow  to  Lucy,  and 
a  pat  on  Martha's  plump  shoulder. 

Jane  came  last,  as  she  always  did.  She  had  risen 
to  greet  him  and  was  now  unwinding  the  white  silk 

273 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

handkerchief  wrapped  about  his  throat  and  helping 
him  off  with  his  fur  tippet  and  gloves. 

"  Thank  you,  Jane.  No,  let  me  take  it ;  it's  rather 
wet,"  he  added  as  he  started  to  lay  the  heavy  overcoat 
over  a  chair.  "  Wait  a  minute.  I've  some  vio 
lets  for  you  if  they  are  not  crushed  in  my  pocket. 
They  came  last  night,"  and  he  handed  her  a  small 
parcel  wrapped  in  tissue  paper.  This  done,  he  took 
his  customary  place  on  the  rug  with  his  back  to  the 
blazing  logs  and  began  unbuttoning  his  trim  frock- 
coat,  bringing  to  view  a  double-breasted,  cream-white 
waistcoat — he  still  dressed  as  a  man  of  thirty,  and 
always  in  the  fashion — as  well  as  a  fluffy  scarf  which 
Jane  had  made  for  him  with  her  own  fingers. 

"  And  what  have  I  interrupted  ?  "  he  asked,  look 
ing  over  the  room.  "  One  of  your  sea  yarns,  cap 
tain  ?  "  —here  he  reached  over  and  patted  the  child's 
head,  who  had  crept  back  to  the  captain's  arms — 
"  or  some  of  my  lady's  news  from  Paris  ?  You 
tell  me,  Jane,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  opening 
his  thin,  white,  almost  transparent  fingers  and 
holding  them  behind  his  back  to  the  fire,  a  favorite 
attitude. 

"  Ask  the  captain,  John."  She  had  regained  her 
seat  and  was  reaching  out  for  her  work-basket,  the 
violets  now  pinned  in  her  bosom — her  eyes  had  long 
since  thanked  him. 

"  No,  do  you  tell  me,"  he  insisted,  moving  aside 
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A    PACKAGE    OF    LETTEKS 

the  table  with  her  sewing  materials  and  placing  it 
nearer  her  chair. 

"  Well,  but  it's  the  captain  who  should  speak/' 
Jane  replied,  laughing,  as  she  looked  up  into  his 
face,  her  eyes  filled  with  his  presence.  "  He  has 
startled  us  all  with  the  most  wonderful  proposition. 
The  Government  is  going  to  build  a  life-saving  sta 
tion  at  Barnegat  beach,  and  they  have  offered  him 
the  position  of  keeper,  and  he  says  he  will  take  it  if 
I  will  let  Archie  go  writh  him  as  one  of  his  crew." 

Doctor  John's  face  instantly  assumed  a  graver 
look.  These  forked  roads  confronting  the  career  of  a 
young  life  were  important  and  not  to  be  lightly  dis 
missed. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  he  asked,  looking 
down  at  Jane  in  the  effort  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"  We  are  waiting  for  you  to  decide,  John."  The 
tone  was  the  same  she  would  have  used  had  the 
doctor  been  her  own  husband  and  the  boy  their  child. 

Doctor  John  communed  with  himself  for  an  in 
stant.  "  Well,  let  us  take  a  vote,"  he  replied  with 
an  air  as  if  each  and  every  one  in  the  room  was  in 
terested  in  the  decision.  "  We'll  begin  with  Mis 
tress  Martha,  and  then  Mrs.  Dellenbaugh,  and  then 
you,  Jane,  and  last  our  lady  from  over  the  sea.  The 
captain  has  already  sold  his  vote  to  his  affections,  and 
so  must  be  counted  out." 

"  Yes,  but  don't  count  me  in,  please,"  exclaimed 
275 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT 

Lucy  with  a  merry  laugh  as  she  arose  from  her  seat. 
"  I  don't  know  a  thing  about  it.  I've  just  told  the 
dear  captain  so.  I'm  going  upstairs  this  very  moment 
to  write  some  letters.  Bonjour,  Monsieur  le  Docteur; 
bonjour,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  and  Madame  Dellen- 
baugh,"  and  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  and  a  little  dip 
of  her  head  to  each  of  the  guests,  she  courtesied  out 
of  the  room. 

When  the  door  was  closed  behind  her  she  stopped 
in  the  hall,  threw  a  glance  at  her  face  in  the  old- 
fashioned  mirror,  satisfied  herself  of  her  skill  in 
preserving  its  beautiful  rabbit's-foot  bloom  and  fresh 
ness,  gave  her  blonde  hair  one  or  two  pats  to  keep  it 
in  place,  rearranged  the  film  of  white  lace  about  her 
shapely  throat,  and  gathering  up  the  mass  of  ruffled 
skirts  that  hid  her  pretty  feet,  slowly  ascended  the 
staircase. 

Once  inside  her  room  and  while  the  vote  was  being 
taken  downstairs  that  decided  Archie's  fate  she 
locked  her  door,  dropped  into  a  chair  by  the  fire,  took 
the  unopened  letter  from  her  pocket,  and  broke  the 
seal. 

"  Don't  scold,  little  woman,"  it  read.  "  I  would 
have  written  before,  but  I've  been  awfully  busy  get 
ting  my  place  in  order.  It's  all  arranged  now,  how 
ever,  for  the  summer.  The  hotel  will  be  opened  in 
June,  and  I  have  the  best  rooms  in  the  house,  the 
three  on  the  corner  overlooking  the  sea.  Sue  says 

276 


A   PACKAGE    OF   LETTEKS 

she  will,  perhaps,  stay  part  of  the  summer  with  me. 
Try  and  come  up  next  week  for  the  night.     If  not 
I'll  bring  Sue  with  me  and  come  to  you  for  the  day. 
Your  own  MAX." 

For  some  minutes  she  sat  gazing  into  the  fire,  the 
letter  in  her  hand. 

"  It's  about  time,  Mr.  Max  Feilding,"  she  said  at 
last  with  a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  rose  from  her  seat 
and  tucked  the  letter  into  her  desk.  "  You've  had 
string  enough,  my  fine  fellow ;  now  it's  my  turn.  If 
I  had  known  you  would  have  stayed  behind  in  Paris 
all  these  months  and  kept  me  waiting  here  I'd  have 
seen  you  safe  aboard  the  steamer.  The  hotel  opens 
in  June,  does  it?  Well,  I  can  just  about  stand  it 
here  until  then;  after  that  I'd  go  mad.  This  place 
bores  me  to  death." 


277 


CHAPTEK    XYI 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  EBB 

Spring  has  come  and  gone.  The  lilacs  and  cro 
cuses,  the  tulips  and  buttercups,  have  bloomed  and 
faded ;  the  lawn  has  had  its  sprinkling  of  dandelions, 
and  the  fluff  of  their  blossoms  has  drifted  past  the 
hemlocks  and  over  the  tree-tops.  The  grass  has 
had  its  first  cutting;  the  roses  have  burst  their  buds 
and  hang  in  clusters  over  the  arbors ;  warm  winds 
blow  in  from  the  sea  laden  with  perfumes  from  beach 
and  salt-marsh;  the  skies  are  steely  blue  and  the 
cloud  puffs  drift  lazily.  It  is  summer-time — the  sea 
son  of  joy  and  gladness,  the  season  of  out-of-doors. 

All  the  windows  at  Yardley  are  open;  the  porch 
has  donned  an  awning — its  first — colored  white  and 
green,  shading  big  rocking-chairs  and  straw  tables 
resting  on  Turkish  rugs.  Lucy  had  wondered  why 
in  all  the  years  that  Jane  had  lived  alone  at  Yardley 
she  had  never  once  thought  of  the  possibilities  of  this 
porch.  Jane  had  agreed  with  her,  and  so,  under 
Lucy's  direction,  the  awnings  had  been  put  up  and 
the  other  comforts  inaugurated.  Beneath  its  shado 

278 


THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE   EBB 

Lucy  sits  and  reads  or  embroiders  or  answers  her 
constantly  increasing  correspondence. 

The  porch  serves  too  as  a  reception-room,  the  vines 
being  thick  and  the  occupants  completely  hidden 
from  view.  Here  Lucy  often  spreads  a  small  table, 
especially  when  Max  Feilding  drives  over  in  his  Lon 
don  drag  from  Beach  Haven  on  Barnegat  beach. 
On  these  occasions,  if  the  weather  is  warm,  she  re 
freshes  him  with  delicate  sandwiches  and  some  of 
her  late  father's  rare  Scotch  whiskey  (shelved  in  the 
cellar  for  thirty  years)  or  with  the  more  common 
brands  of  cognac  served  in  the  old  family  decanters. 

Of  late  Max  had  become  a  constant  visitor.  His 
own  ancestors  had  made  honorable  records  in  the 
preceding  century,  and  were  friends  of  the  earlier 
Cobdens  during  the  Kevolution.  This,  together  with 
the  fact  that  he  had  visited  Yardley  when  Lucy  was 
a  girl — on  his  first  return  from  Paris,  in  fact — and 
that  the  acquaintance  had  been  kept  up  while  he  was 
a  student  abroad,  was  reason  enough  for  his  coming 
with  such  frequency. 

His  drag,  moreover,  as  it  whirled  into  Yardley's 
gate,  gave  a  certain  air  of  eclat  to  the  Manor  House 
that  it  had  not  known  since  the  days  of  the  old 
colonel.  Nothing  was  lacking  that  money  and  taste 
could  furnish.  The  grays  were  high-steppers  and 
smooth  as  satin,  the  polished  chains  rattled  and 

279 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

clanked  about  the  pole;  the  body  was  red  and  the 
wheels  yellow,  the  lap-robe  blue,  with  a  monogram; 
and  the  diminutive  boy  studded  with  silver  buttons 
bearing  the  crest  of  the  Feilding  family  was  as  smart 
as  the  tailor  could  make  him. 

And  the  owner  himself,  in  his  whity-brown  driv 
ing-coat  with  big  pearl  buttons,  yellow  gloves,  and 
gray  hat,  looked  every  inch  the  person  to  hold  the 
ribbons.  Altogether  it  was  a  most  fashionable  equi 
page,  owned  and  driven  by  a  most  fashionable  man. 

As  for  the  older  residents  of  Warehold,  they  had 
only  words  of  praise  for  the  turnout.  Uncle 
Ephraim  declared  that  it  was  a  "  Jim  Dandy,"  which 
not  only  showed  his  taste,  but  which  also  proved  how 
much  broader  that  good-natured  cynic  had  become  in 
later  years.  Billy  Tatham  gazed  at  it  with  staring 
eyes  as  it  trundled  down  the  highway  and  turned  into 
the  gate,  and  at  once  determined  to  paint  two  of  his 
hacks  bright  yellow  and  give  each  driver  a  lap-robe 
with  the  letter  "  T  "  worked  in  high  relief. 

The  inmates  of  Yardley  were  not  quite  so  enthu 
siastic.  Martha  was  glad  that  her  bairn  was  having 
such  a  good  time,  and  she  would  often  stand  on  the 
porch  with  little  Ellen's  hand  in  hers  and  wave  to 
Max  and  Lucy  as  they  dashed  down  the  garden  road 
and  out  through  the  gate,  the  tiger  behind ;  but  Jane, 
with  that  quick  instinct  which  some  women  possess, 
recognized  something  in  Feilding's  manner  which 

280 


THE    BEGItfKEXG    OF    THE    EBB 

she  could  not  put  into  words,  and  so  held  her  peace. 
She  had  nothing  against  Max,  but  she  did  not  like 
him.  Although  he  was  most  considerate  of  her  feel 
ings  and  always  deferred  to  her,  she  felt  that  any 
opposition  on  her  part  to  their  outings  would  have 
made  no  difference  to  either  one  of  them.  He  asked 
her  permission,  of  course,  and  she  recognized  the  cour 
tesy,  hut  nothing  that  he  ever  did  or  said  overcame 
her  dislike  of  him. 

Doctor  John's  personal  attitude  and  bearing  to 
ward  Eeilding  was  an  enigma  not  only  to  Jane,  but 
to  others  who  saw  it.  He  invariably  greeted  him, 
whenever  they  met,  with  marked,  almost  impres 
sive  cordiality,  but  it  never  passed  a  certain  limit 
of  reserve;  a  certain  dignity  of  manner  which  Max 
had  recognized  the  first  day  he  shook  hands  with  him. 
It  recalled  to  Eeilding  some  of  his  earlier  days,  when 
he  was  a  student  in  Paris.  There  had  been  a  suppe/ 
in  Max's  room  that  ended  at  daylight — no  worse  in 
its  features  than  dozens  of  others  in  the  Quartier — 
to  which  an  intimate  friend  of  the  doctor's  had  been 
invited,  and  upon  which,  as  Max  heard  afterward, 
the  doctor  had  commented  rather  severely. 

Max  realized,  therefore,  but  too  well  that  the  dis 
tinguished  physician — known  now  over  half  the  State 
—understood  him,  and  his  habits,  and  his  kind  as 
thoroughly  as  he  did  his  own  case  of  instruments. 
He  realized,  too,  that  there  was  nothing  about  his 

281 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

present  appearance  or  surroundings  or  daily  life  that 
could  lead  so  thoughtful  a  man  of  the  world  as  Dr. 
John  Cavendish,  of  Barnegat,  to  conclude  that  he 
had  changed  in  any  way  for  the  better. 

And  yet  this  young  gentleman  could  never  have 
been  accused  of  burning  his  candle  at  both  ends.  He 
had  no  flagrant  vices  really — none  whose  posters  were 
pasted  on  the  victim's  face.  Neither  cards  nor  any 
other  form  of  play  interested  him,  nor  did  the  wine 
tempt  him  when  it  was  red — or  of  any  other  color, 
for  that  matter,  nor  did  he  haunt  the  dressing-rooms 
of  chorus  girls  and  favorites  of  the  hour.  His  innate 
refinement  and  good  taste  prevented  any  such  uses 
of  his  spare  time.  His  weakness — for  it  could  hardly 
be  called  a  vice — was  narrowed  down  to  one  infir 
mity,  and  one  only :  this  was  his  inability  to  be  happy 
without  the  exclusive  society  of  some  one  woman. 

Who  the  woman  might  be  depended  very  largely 
on  whom  he  might  be  thrown  with.  In  the  first  ten 
years  of  his  majority — his  days  of  poverty  when  a 
student — it  had  been  some  girl  in  exile,  like  him 
self.  During  the  last  ten  years — since  his  father's 
death  and  his  inheritance — it  had  been  a  loose  end 
picked  out  of  the  great  floating  drift — that  social 
flotsam  and  jetsam  which  eddies  in  and  out  of  the 
casinos  of  Nice  and  Monte  Carlo,  flows  into  Aix 
and  Trouville  in  summer  and  back  again  to  Rome 
and  Cairo  in  winter — a  discontented  wife  perhaps; 

282 


THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    EBB 

or  an  unmarried  woman  of  thirty-five  or  forty,  with' 
means  enough  to  live  where  she  pleased ;  or  it  might 
be  some  self-exiled  Russian  countess  or  English 
woman  of  quality  who  had  a  month  off,  and  who 
meant  to  make  the  most  of  it.  All  most  respectable 
people,  of  course,  without  a  breath  of  scandal  attach 
ing  to  their  names — Max  was  too  careful  for  that — 
and  yet  each  and  every  one  on  the  lookout  for  pre 
cisely  the  type  of  man  that  Max  represented:  one 
never  happy  or  even  contented  when  outside  the 
radius  of  a  waving  fan  or  away  from  the  flutter  of  a 
silken  skirt. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  resorts  of  the  idle,  a  couple 
of  years  before,  while  Lucy's  husband  and  little  Ellen 
were  home  in  Geneva,  that  Max  had  met  her,  and 
where  he  had  renewed  the  acquaintance  of  their  child 
hood — an  acquaintance  which  soon  ripened  into  the 
closest  friendship. 

Hence  his  London  drag  and  appointments;  hence 
the  yacht  and  a  four-in-hand — then  a  great  novelty — 
all  of  which  he  had  promised  her  should  she  decide 
to  join  him  at  home.  Hence,  too,  his  luxuriously 
fitted-up  bachelor  quarters  in  Philadelphia,  and  his 
own  comfortable  apartments  in  his  late  father's 
house,  where  his  sister  Sue  lived;  and  hence,  too, 
his  cosey  rooms  in  the  best  corner  of  the  Beach 
Haven  hotel,  with  a  view  overlooking  Barnegat  Light 
and  the  sea. 

283 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

None  of  these  things  indicated  in  the  smallest  de 
gree  that  this  noble  gentleman  contemplated  finally 
settling  down  in  a  mansion  commensurate  with  his 
large  means,  where  he  and  the  pretty  widow  could 
enjoy  their  married  life  together;  nothing  was  fur 
ther  from  his  mind — nothing  could  be — he  loved 
his  freedom  too  much.  What  he  wanted,  and  what 
he  intended  to  have,  was  her  undivided  companion 
ship — at  least  for  the  summer ;  a  companionship  with 
out  any  of  the  uncomfortable  complications  which 
would  have  arisen  had  he  selected  an  unmarried 
woman  or  the  wife  of  some  friend  to  share  his  leisure 
and  wealth. 

The  woman  he  picked  out  for  the  coming  season 
suited  him  exactly.  She  was  blonde,  with  eyes, 
mouth,  teeth,  and  figure  to  his  liking  (he  had  become 
critical  in  forty  odd  years — twenty  passed  as  an 
expert)  ;  dressed  in  perfect  taste,  and  wore  her  clothes 
to  perfection;  had  a  Continental  training  that  made 
her  mistress  of  every  situation,  receiving  with  equal 
ease  and  graciousness  anybody,  from  a  postman  to 
a  prince,  sending  them  awray  charmed  and  delighted ; 
possessed  money  enough  of  her  own  not  to  be  too 
much  of  a  drag  upon  him;  and — best  of  all  (and  this 
was  most  important  to  the  heir  of  Walnut  Hill) — 
had  the  best  blood  of  the  State  circling  in  her  veins. 
Whether  this  intimacy  might  drift  into  something 
closer,  compelling  him  to  take  a  reef  in  his  sails, 

284 


THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    EBB 

never  troubled  him.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he 
had  steered  his  craft  between  the  Scylla  of  matri 
mony  and  the  Charybdis  of  scandal,  and  he  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  of  his  being  able  to  do  it  again. 

As  for  Lucy,  she  had  many  plans  in  view.  One 
was  to  get  all  the  fun  possible  out  of  the  situation; 
another  was  to  provide  for  her  future.  How  this  was 
to  be  accomplished  she  had  not  yet  determined.  Her 
plans  were  laid,  but  some  of  them  she  knew  from  past 
experience  might  go  astray.  On  one  point  she  had 
made  up  her  mind — not  to  be  in  a  hurry.  In  further 
ance  of  these  schemes  she  had  for  some  days — some 
months,  in  fact — been  making  preparations  for  an 
important  move.  She  knew  that  its  bare  announce 
ment  would  come  as  a  surprise  to  Jane  and  Martha 
and,  perhaps,  as  a  shock,  but  that  did  not  shake  her 
purpose.  She  furthermore  expected  more  or  less  op 
position  when  they  fully  grasped  her  meaning.  This 
she  intended  to  overcome.  Neither  Jane  nor  Martha, 
she  said  to  herself,  could  be  angry  with  her  for  long, 
and  a  few  kisses  and  an  additional  flow  of  good- 
humor  would  soon  set  them  to  laughing  again. 

To  guard  against  the  possibility  of  a  too  pro 
longed  interview  with  Jane,  ending,  perhaps,  in  a 
disagreeable  scene — one  beyond  her  control — she  had 
selected  a  sunny  summer  morning  for  the  stage  set 
ting  of  her  little  comedy  and  an  hour  when  Feilding 
was  expected  to  call  for  her  in  his  drag.  She  and 

285 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

Max  were  to  make  a  joint  inspection  that  day  of  his 
new  apartment  at  Beach  Haven,  into  which  he  had 
just  moved,  as  well  as  the  stable  containing  the  three 
extra  vehicles  and  equine  impedimenta,  which  were 
to  add  to  their  combined  comfort  and  enjoyment. 

Lucy  had  been  walking  in  the  garden  looking  at  the 
rose-beds,  her  arm  about  her  sister's  slender  waist, 
her  ears  open  to  the  sound  of  every  passing  vehicle — 
Max  was  expected  at  any  moment — when  she  began 
her  lines. 

"  You  won't  mind,  Jane,  dear,  will  you,  if  I  get 
together  a  few  things  and  move  over  to  Beach  Haven 
for  a  while  ?  "  she  remarked  simply,  just  as  she  might 
have  done  had  she  asked  permission  to  go  upstairs 
to  take  a  nap.  "  I  think  we  should  all  encourage 
a  new  enterprise  like  the  hotel,  especially  old  families 
like  ours.  And  then  the  sea  air  always  does  me  so 
much  good.  Nothing  like  Trouville  air,  my  dear 
husband  used  to  tell  me,  when  I  came  back  in  the 
autumn.  You  don't  mind,  do  you  ?  " 

"  For  how  long,  Lucy  ?  "  asked  Jane,  with  a  tone 
of  disappointment  in  her  voice,  as  she  placed  her  foot 
on  the  top  step  of  the  porch. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell.  Depends  very  much  on  how 
I  like  it."  As  she  spoke  she  drew  up  an  easy-chair 
for  Jane  and  settled  herself  in  another.  Then  she 
added  carelessly :  "  Oh,  perhaps  a  month — perhaps 
two." 

286 


THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    EBB 

"  Two  months !  "  exclaimed  Jane  in  astonishment, 
dropping  into  her  seat,  "  Why,  what  do  you  want 
to  leave  Yardley  for?  O  Lucy,  don't — please  don't 
go!" 

"  But  you  can  come  over,  and  I  can  come  here," 
rejoined  Lucy  in  a  coaxing  tone. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  don't  want  to  come  over.  I  want  you 
at  home.  And  it's  so  lovely  here.  I  have  never  seen 
the  garden  look  so  beautiful ;  and  you  have  your  own 
room,  and  this  little  porch  is  so  cosey.  The  hotel 
is  a  new  building,  and  the  doctor  says  a  very  damp 
one,  with  everything  freshly  plastered.  He  won't 
let  any  of  his  patients  go  there  for  some  weeks,  he 
tells  me.  Why  should  you  want  to  go?  I  really 
couldn't  think  of  it,  dear.  I'd  miss  you  dreadfully." 

"  You  dear  old  sister,"  answered  Lucy,  laying  her 
parasol  on  the  small  table  beside  her,  "  you  are  so 
old-fashioned.  Habit,  if  nothing  else,  would  make 
me  go.  I  have  hardly  passed  a  summer  in  Paris 
or  Geneva  since  I  left  you;  and  you  know  how  de 
lightful  my  visits  to  Biarritz  used  to  be  years 
ago.  Since  my  marriage  I  have  never  stayed  in  any 
one  place  so  long  as  this,  I  must  have  the  sea 
air." 

"  But  the  salt  water  is  right  here,  Lucy,  within 
a  short  walk  of  our  gate,  and  the  air  is  the  same." 
Jane's  face  wore  a  troubled  look,  and  there  was  an 
anxious,  almost  frightened  tone  in  her  voice. 

287 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  No,  it  is  not  exactly  the  same/'  Lucy  answered 
positively,  as  if  she  had  made  a  life-long  study  of 
climate ;  "  and  if  it  were,  the  life  is  very  different. 
I  love  Warehold,  of  course ;  but  you  must  admit  that 
it  is  half -asleep  all  the  time.  The  hotel  will  be  some 
change;  there  will  be  new  people  and  something  to 
see  from  the  piazzas.  And  I  need  it,  dear.  I  get 
tired  of  one  thing  all  the  time — I  always  have." 

"  But  you  will  be  just  as  lonely  there."  Jane  in 
her  astonishment  was  like  a  blind  man  feeling  about 
for  a  protecting  wall. 

"  No ;  Max  and  his  sister  will  be  at  Beach  Haven, 
and  lots  of  others  I  know.  No,  I  won't  be  lonely," 
and  an  amused  expression  twinkled  in  her  eyes. 

Jane  sat  quite  still.  Some  of  Captain  Holt's  blunt, 
outspoken  criticisms  floated  through  her  brain. 

"  Have  you  any  reason  for  wanting  to  leave  here  ?  " 
she  asked,  raising  her  eyes  and  looking  straight  at 
Lucy. 

"  No,  certainly  not.  How  foolish,  dear,  to  ask 
me !  I'm  never  so  happy  as  when  I  am  with  you." 

"  Well,  why  then  should  you  want  to  give  up  your 
home  and  all  the  comforts  you  need — your  flowers, 
garden,  and  everything  you  love,  and  this  porch, 
which  you  have  just  made  so  charming,  to  go  to  a 
damp,  half-completed  hotel,  without  a  shrub  about 
it — only  a  stretch  of  desolate  sand  with  the  tide  going 
in  and  out  ?  "  There  was  a  tone  of  suspicion  in 

288 


THE    BEGINNING   OF    THE    EBB 

Jane's  voice  that  Lucy  had  never  heard  from  her 
sister's  lips — never,  in  all  her  life. 

"  Oh,  because  I  love  the  tides,  if  nothing  else," 
she  answered  with  a  sentimental  note  in  her  voice. 
"  Every  six  hours  they  bring  me  a  new  message.  I 
could  spend  whole  mornings  watching  the  tides  come 
and  go.  During  my  long  exile  you  don't  know  how 
I  dreamed  every  night  of  the  dear  tides  of  Barnegat. 
If  you  had  been  away  from  all  you  love  as  many 
years  as  I  have,  you  would  understand  how  I  could 
revel  in  the  sound  of  the  old  breakers." 

For  some  moments  Jane  did  not  answer.  She 
knew  from  the  tones  of  Lucy's  voice  and  from  the 
way  she  spoke  that  she  did  not  mean  it.  She  had 
heard  her  talk  that  way  to  some  of  the  villagers  when 
she  wanted  to  impress  them,  but  she  had  never  spoken 
in  the  same  way  to  her. 

"  You  have  some  other  reason,  Lucy.  Is  it  Max  ?  " 
she  asked  in  a  strained  tone. 

Lucy  colored.  She  had  not  given  her  sister  credit 
for  so  keen  an  insight  into  the  situation.  Jane's 
mind  was  evidently  working  in  a  new  direction.  She 
determined  to  face  the  suspicion  squarely;  the  truth 
under  some  conditions  is  better  than  a  lie. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  with  an  assumed  humility  and 
with  a  tone  as  if  she  had  been  detected  in  a  fault  and 
wanted  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  "  Yes — now 
that  you  have  guessed  it — it  is  Max." 

289 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  see  him 
here  instead  of  at  the  hotel  ?  "  exclaimed  Jane,  her 
eyes  still  boring  into  Lucy's. 

"  Perhaps  "•  —the  answer  came  in  a  helpless  way 

"  but  that  won't  do  much  good.  I  want  to  keep 
my  promise  to  him  if  I  can." 

''  What  was  your  promise  ?  "  Jane's  eyes  lost  their 
searching  look  for  an  instant,  but  the  tone  of  suspi 
cion  still  vibrated. 

Lucy  hesitated  and  began  playing  with  the  trim 
ming  on  her  dress. 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  dear,  a  few  days  ago 
in  a  burst  of  generosity  I  got  myself  into  something 
of  a  scrape.  Max  wants  his  sister  Sue  to  spend  the 
summer  with  him,  and  I  very  foolishly  promised  to 
chaperon  her.  She  is  delighted  over  the  prospect, 
for  she  must  have  somebody,  and  I  haven't  the  heart 
to  disappoint  her.  Max  has  been  so  kind  to  me  that 
I  hate  now  to  tell  him  I  can't  go.  That's  all,  dear. 
I  don't  like  to  speak  of  obligations  of  this  sort,  and 
so  at  first  I  only  told  you  half  the  truth." 

"  You  should  always  keep  your  promise,  dear," 
Jane  answered  thoughtfully  and  with  a  certain  re 
lieved  tone.  (Sue  was  nearly  thirty,  but  that  did 
not  occur  to  Jane. )  "  But  this  time  I  wish  you  had 
not  promised.  I  am  sorry,  too,  for  little  Ellen.  She 
will  miss  her  little  garden  and  everything  she  loves 
here;  and  then  again,  Archie  will  miss  her,  and  so 

290 


THE   BEGINNING    OF    THE    EBB 

will  Captain  Holt  and  Martha.     You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  a  hotel  is  no  place  for  a  child." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  That's  why  I 
shall  not  take  her  with  me."  As  she  spoke  she  shot 
an  inquiring  glance  from  the  corner  of  her  eyes  at 
the  anxious  face  of  her  sister.  These  last  lines  just 
before  the  curtain  fell  were  the  ones  she  had  dreaded 
most. 

Jane  half  rose  from  her  seat.  Her  deep  eyes 
were  wide  open,  gazing  in  astonishment  at  Lucy. 
For  an  instant  she  felt  as  if  her  heart  had  stopped 
beating. 

"  And  you — you — are  not  going  to  take  Ellen  with 
you !  "  she  gasped. 

"  No,  of  course  not."  She  saw  her  sister's  agita 
tion,  but  she  did  not  intend  to  notice  it.  Besides,  her 
expectant  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  Max's  drag 
as  it  whirled  through  the  gate.  "  I  always  left  her 
with  her  grandmother  when  she  was  much  younger 
than  she  is  now.  She  is  very  happy  here  and  I 
wouldn't  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  her  away  from  all 
her  pleasures.  Then  she  loves  old  people.  See  how 
fond  she  is  of  the  Captain  and  Martha!  No,  you 
are  right.  I  wouldn't  think  of  taking  her  away." 

Jane  was  standing  now,  her  eyes  blazing,  her  lips 
quivering. 

"  You  mean,  Lucy,  that  you  would  leave  your  child 
here  and  spend  two  months  away  from  her  ?  " 

291 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKXEGAT 

The  wheels  were  crunching  the  gravel  within  a 
rod  of  the  porch.  Max  had  already  lifted  his  hat. 

"  But,  sister,  you  don't  understand The 

drag  stopped  and  Max,  with  uncovered  head,  sprang 
out  and  extended  his  hand  to  Jane. 

Before  he  could  offer  his  salutations  Lucy's  joyous 
tones  rang  out. 

"  Just  in  the  nick  of  time,  Max,"  she  cried.  "  I've 
just  been  telling  my  dear  sister  that  I'm  going  to 
move  over  to  Beach  Haven  to-morrow,  bag  and  bag 
gage,  and  she  is  delighted  at  the  news.  Isn't  it  just 
like  her?" 


292 


CHAPTEE    XVII 

BREAKERS   AHEAD 

The  summer-home  of  Max  Feilding,  Esq.,  of  Wal 
nut  Hill,  and  of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished 
widow  of  the  dead  Frenchman  was  located  on  a 
levelled  sand-dune  in  full  view  of  the  sea.  Indeed, 
from  beneath  its  low-hooded  porticos  and  piazzas 
nothing  else  could  be  seen  except,  perhaps,  the  wide 
sky — gray,  mottled,  or  intensely  blue,  as  the  weather 
permitted — the  stretch  of  white  sand  shaded  from 
dry  to  wet  and  edged  with  tufts  of  yellow  grass; 
the  circling  gulls  and  the  tall  finger  of  Barnegat 
Light  pointing  skyward.  Nothing,  really,  but  some 
scattering  buildings  in  silhouette  against  the  glare 
of  the  blinding  light — one  the  old  House  of  Refuge, 
a  mile  away  to  the  north,  and  nearer  by,  the  new  Life 
Saving  Station  (now  complete)  in  charge  of  Captain 
Nat  Holt  and  his  crew  of  trusty  surfmen. 

This  view  Lucy  always  enjoyed.  She  would  sit 
for  hours  under  her  awnings  and  watch  the  lazy  boats 
crawling  in  and  out  of  the  inlet,  or  the  motionless 
steamers — motionless  at  that  distance — slowly  un- 

293 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

winding  their  threads  of  smoke.  The  Station  particu 
larly  interested  her.  Somehow  she  felt  a  certain  sat 
isfaction  in  knowing  that  Archie  was  at  work  and 
that  he  had  at  last  found  his  level  among  his  own 
people — not  that  she  wished  him  any  harm;  she 
only  wanted  him  out  of  her  way. 

The  hostelry  itself  was  one  of  those  low-roofed, 
shingle-sided  and  shingle-covered  buildings  common 
in  the  earlier  days  along  the  Jersey  coast,  and  now 
supplanted  by  more  modern  and  more  costly  struc 
tures.  It  had  grown  from  a  farm-house  and  out 
buildings  to  its  present  state  with  the  help  of  an 
architect  and  a  jig-saw;  the  former  utilizing  what 
remained  of  the  house  and  its  barns,  and  the  latter 
transforming  plain  pine  into  open  work  patterns 
with  which  to  decorate  its  gable  ends  and  facade. 
When  the  flags  were  raised,  the  hanging  baskets  sus 
pended  in  each  loop  of  the  porches,  and  the  merciless, 
omnipresent  and  ever-insistent  sand  was  swept  from 
its  wide  piazzas  and  sun-warped  steps  it  gave  out  an 
air  of  gayety  so  plausible  and  enticing  that  many 
otherwise  sane  and  intelligent  people  at  once  closed 
their  comfortable  homes  and  entered  their  names  in 
its  register. 

The  amusements  of  these  habitues — if  they  could 
be  called  habitues,  this  being  their  first  summer — 
were  as  varied  as  their  tastes.  There  was  a  band 
which  played  mornings  and  afternoons  in  an  un- 

204 


BKEAKEKS    AHEAD 

painted  pine  pagoda  planted  on  a  plot  of  slowly  dy 
ing  grass  and  decorated  with  more  hanging  baskets 
and  Chinese  lanterns;  there  was  bathing  at  eleven 
and  four;  and  there  was  croquet  on  the  square  of 
cement  fenced  about  by  poles  and  clothes-lines  at  all 
hours.  Besides  all  this  there  were  driving  parties 
to  the  villages  nearby ;  dancing  parties  at  night  with 
the  band  in  the  large  room  playing  away  for  dear 
life,  with  all  the  guests  except  the  very  young  and 
very  old  tucked  away  in  twos  in  the  dark  corners  of 
the  piazzas  out  of  reach  of  the  lights  and  the  inquisi 
tive — in  short,  all  the  diversions  known  to  such  re 
treats,  so  necessary  for  warding  off  ennui  and  thus 
inducing  the  inmates  to  stay  the  full  length  of 
their  commitments. 

In  its  selection  Max  was  guided  by  two  considera 
tions:  it  was  near  Yardley — this  would  materially 
aid  in  Lucy's  being  able  to  join  him — and  it  was 
not  fashionable  and,  therefore,  not  likely  to  be  over 
run  with  either  his  own  or  Lucy's  friends.  The 
amusements  did  not  interest  him;  nor  did  they  in 
terest  Lucy.  Both  had  seen  too  much  and  enjoyed 
too  much  on  the  other  side  of  the  water,  at  Nice, 
at  Monte  Carlo,  and  Biarritz,  to  give  the  amusements 
a  thought.  What  they  wanted  was  to  be  let  alone; 
this  would  furnish  all  the  excitement  either  of  them 
needed.  This  exclusiveness  was  greatly  helped  by 
the  red  and  yellow  drag,  with  all  its  contiguous  and 

295 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAK^EGAT 

connecting  impedimenta,  a  turnout  which  never 
ceased  to  occupy  everybody's  attention  whenever  the 
small  tiger  stood  by  the  heads  of  the  satin-coated 
grays  awaiting  the  good  pleasure  of  his  master  and 
his  lady.  Its  possession  not  only  marked  a  social 
eminence  too  lofty  for  any  ordinary  habitue  to  climb 
to  unless  helped  up  by  the  proffered  hand  of  the 
owner,  but  it  prevented  anyone  of  these  would-be 
climbers  from  inviting  either  its  owner  or  his  com 
panion  to  join  in  other  outings  no  matter  how  en 
joyable.  Such  amusements  as  they  could  offer  were 
too  simple  and  old-fashioned  for  two  distinguished 
persons  who  held  the  world  in  their  slings  and  who 
were  whirling  it  around  their  heads  with  all  their 
might.  The  result  was  that  their  time  was  their 
own. 

They  filled  it  at  their  pleasure. 

When  the  tide  was  out  and  the  sand  hard,  they 
drove  on  the  beach,  stopping  at  the  new  station, 
chatting  with  Captain  Holt  or  Archie;  or  they 
strolled  north,  always  avoiding  the  House  of  Refuge 
—that  locality  had  too  many  unpleasant  associations 
for  Lucy,  or  they  sat  on  the  dunes,  moving  back 
out  of  the  wet  as  the  tide  reached  them,  tossing 
pebbles  in  the  hollows,  or  gathering  tiny  shells,  which 
Lucy  laid  out  in  rows  of  letters  as  she  had  done  when 
a  child.  In  the  afternoon  they  drove  by  way  of 
Yardley  to  see  how  Ellen  was  getting  on,  or  idled 

296 


BKEAKEES    AHEAD 

about  Warehold,  making  little  purchases  at  the  shops 
and  chatting  with  the  village  people,  all  of  whom 
would  come  out  to  greet  them.  After  dinner  they 
would  generally  betake  themselves  to  Max's  portico, 
opening  out  of  his  rooms,  or  to  Lucy's — they  were 
at  opposite  ends  of  the  long  corridor — where  the  two 
had  their  coffee  while  Max  smoked. 

The  opinions  freely  expressed  regarding  their 
social  and  moral  status,  and  individual  and  combined 
relations,  differed  greatly  in  the  several  localities 
in  which  they  were  wont  to  appear.  In  Warehold 
village  they  were  looked  upon  as  two  most  charm 
ing  and  delightful  people,  rich,  handsome,  and  of 
proper  age  and  lineage,  who  were  exactly  adapted 
to  each  other  and  who  would  prove  it  before  the 
year  was  out,  with  Pastor  Dellenbaugh  officiating, 
assisted  by  some  dignitary  from  Philadelphia. 

At  the  hostelry  many  of  the  habitues  had  come 
to  a  far  different  conclusion.  Marriage  was  not  in 
either  of  their  heads,  they  maintained;  their  inti 
macy  was  a  purely  platonic  one,  born  of  a  friendship 
dating  back  to  childhood — they  were  cousins  really — 
Max  being  the  dearest  and  most  unselfish  creature 
in  the  world,  he  having  given  up  all  his  pleasures 
elsewhere  to  devote  himself  to  a  most  sweet  and  gra 
cious  lady  whose  grief  was  still  severe  and  who  would 
really  be  quite  alone  in  the  world  were  it  not  for  her 
little  daughter,  now  temporarily  absent. 

297 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

This  summary  of  facts,  none  of  which  could  be 
questioned,  was  supplemented  and  enriched  by  an 
other  conclusive  instalment  from  Mrs.  Walton  Coates, 
of  Chestnut  Plains,  who  had  met  Lucy  at  Aix  the 
year  before,  and  who  therefore  possessed  certain 
rights  not  vouchsafed  to  the  other  habitues  of  Beach 
Haven — an  acquaintance  which  Lucy,  for  various 
reasons,  took  pains  to  encourage — Mrs.  C.'s  social 
position  being  beyond  question,  and  her  house  and 
other  appointments  more  than  valuable  whenever 
Lucy  should  visit  Philadelphia:  besides,  Mrs. 
Coates's  own  and  Lucy's  apartments  joined,  and 
the  connecting  door  of  the  two  sitting-rooms  was 
often  left  open,  a  fact  which  established  a  still 
closer  intimacy.  This  instalment,  given  in  a  posi 
tive  and  rather  lofty  way,  made  plain  the  fact  that 
in  her  enforced  exile  the  distinguished  lady  not  only 
deserved  the  thanks  of  every  habitue  of  the  hotel,  but 
of  the  whole  country  around,  for  selecting  the  new  es 
tablishment  in  which  to  pass  the  summer,  instead  of 
one  of  the  more  fashionable  resorts  elsewhere. 

This  outburst  of  the  society  leader,  uttered  in  the 
hearing  of  a  crowded  piazza,  had  occurred  after  a 
conversation  she  had  had  with  Lucy  concerning  little 
Ellen. 

"  Tell  me  about  your  little  daughter,"  Mrs.  Coates 
had  said.  "You  did  not  leave  her  abroad,  did 
you?" 

298 


BEEAKEKS    AHEAD 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear  Mrs.  Coates !  I  am  really  here 
on  my  darling's  account/'  Lucy  answered  with  a 
sigh.  "  My  old  home  is  only  a  short  distance  from 
here.  But  the  air  does  not  agree  with  me  there, 
and  so  I  came  here  to  get  a  breath  of  the  real  sea. 
Ellen  is  with  her  aunt,  my  dear  sister  Jane.  I 
wanted  to  bring  her,  but  really  I  hadn't  the  heart 
to  take  her  from  them;  they  are  so  devoted  to  her. 
Max  loves  her  dearly.  He  drives  me  over  there 
almost  every  day.  I  really  do  not  know  how  I  could 
have  borne  all  the  sorrows  I  have  had  this  year 
without  dear  Max.  He  is  like  a  brother  to  me,  and 
so  thoughtful.  You  know  we  have  known  each  other 
since  we  were  children.  They  tell  such  dreadful 
stories,  too,  about  him,  but  I  have  never  seen  that 
side  of  him.  He's  a  perfect  saint  to  me." 

From  that  time  on  Mrs.  Coates  was  her  loyal 
mouthpiece  and  devoted  friend.  Being  separated 
from  one's  child  was  one  of  the  things  she  could  not 
brook ;  Lucy  was  an  angel  to  stand  it  as  she  did.  As 
for  Max — no  other  woman  had  ever  so  influenced 
him  for  good,  nor  did  she  believe  any  other  woman 
could. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  week  a  small  fly  no  larger 
than  a  pin's  head  began  to  develop  in  the  sunshine 
of  their  amber.  It  became  visible  to  the  naked  eye 
when  Max  suddenly  resolved  to  leave  his  drag,  his 
tiger,  his  high-stepping  grays,  and  his  fair  com- 

299 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

pardon,  and  slip  over  to  Philadelphia — for  a  day  or 
two,  he  explained.  His  lawyer  needed  him,  he  said, 
and  then  again  he  wanted  to  see  his  sister  Sue,  who 
had  run  down  to  Walnut  Hill  for  the  day.  (Sue,  it 
might  as  well  be  stated,  had  not  yet  put  in  an  appear 
ance  at  Beach  Haven,  nor  had  she  given  any  notice 
of  her  near  arrival;  a  fact  which  had  not  disturbed 
Lucy  in  the  least  until  she  attempted  to  explain  to 
Jane. ) 

"  I've  got  to  pull  up,  little  woman,  and  get  out  for 
a  few  days,"  Max  had  begun.  "  Morton's  all  snarled 
up,  he  writes  me,  over  a  mortgage,  and  I  must 
straighten  it  out.  I'll  leave  Bones  [the  tiger]  and 
everything  just  as  it  is.  Don't  mind,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Mind !  Of  course  I  do ! "  retorted  Lucy. 
"When  did  you  get  this  marvellous  idea  into  that 
wonderful  brain  of  yours,  Max?  I  intended  to  go 
to  Warehold  myself  to-morrow."  She  spoke  with 
her  usual  good-humor,  but  with  a  slight  trace  of  sur^ 
prise  and  disappointment  in  her  tone. 

"  When  I  opened  my  mail  this  morning ;  but  my 
going  won't  make  any  difference  about  Warehold. 
Bones  and  the  groom  will  take  care  of  you." 

Lucy  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  looked  over 
the  rail  of  the  porch.  She  had  noticed  lately  a  cer 
tain  restraint  in  Max's  manner  which  was  new  to  her. 
Whether  he  was  beginning  to  get  bored,  or  whether 
it  was  only  one  of  his  moods,  she  could  not  decide — 

300 


BKEAKERS    AHEAD 

even  with  her  acute  knowledge  of  similar  symptoms. 
That  some  change,  however,  had  come  over  him  she 
had  not  the  slightest  doubt.  She  never  had  any  trou 
ble  in  lassoing  her  admirers.  That  came  with  a 
glance  of  her  eye  or  a  lift  of  her  pretty  shoulders: 
nor  for  that  matter  in  keeping  possession  of  them  as 
long  as  her  mood  lasted. 

"  Whom  do  you  want  to  see  in  Philadelphia, 
Max  ? "  she  asked,  smiling  roguishly  at  him.  She 
held  him  always  by  presenting  her  happiest  and  most 
joyous  side,  whether  she  felt  it  or  not. 

"  Sue  and  Morton — and  you,  you  dear  girl,  if 
you'll  come  along." 

"  No ;  I'm  not  coming  along.  I'm  too  comfort 
able  where  I  am.  Is  this  woman  somebody  you 
haven't  told  me  of,  Max  ? "  she  persisted,  looking 
at  him  from  under  half-closed  lids. 

"  Your  somebodies  are  always  thin  air,  little  girl ; 
you  know  everything  I  have  ever  done  in  my  whole 
life,"  Max  answered  gravely.  She  had  for  the  last 
two  weeks. 

Lucy  threw  up  her  hands  and  laughed  so  loud  and 
cheerily  that  an  habitue  taking  his  morning  constitu 
tional  on  the  boardwalk  below  turned  his  head  in 
their  direction.  The  two  were  at  breakfast  under 
the  awnings  of  Lucy's  portico,  Bones  standing  out 
of  range. 

"  You  don't  believe  it  ?  " 
301 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  Not  one  word  of  it,  you  fraud ;  nor  do  you. 
You've  forgotten  one-half  of  all  you've  done  and  the 
other  half  you  wouldn't  dare  tell  any  woman.  Come, 
give  me  her  name.  Anybody  Sue  knows  ?  " 

"  Nobody  that  anybody  knows,  Honest  John." 
Then  he  added  as  an  after-thought,  "  Are  you 
sorry  ?  "  As  he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  stood 
behind  her  chair  looking  down  over  her  figure.  She 
had  her  back  to  him.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  lovely.  She  was  wearing  a  light-blue 
morning-gown,  her  arms  bare  to  the  elbows,  and  a 
wide  Leghorn  hat — the  morning  costume  of  all  others 
he  liked  her  best  in. 

"  No — don't  think  I  am,"  she  answered  lightly. 
"  Fact  is  I  was  getting  pretty  tired  of  you.  How 
long  will  you  be  gone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  till  the  end  of  the  week — not 
longer."  He  reached  over  the  chair  and  was  about 
to  play  with  the  tiny  curls  that  lay  under  the  coil 
of  her  hair,  when  he  checked  himself  and  straight 
ened  up.  One  of  those  sudden  restraints  which 
had  so  puzzled  Lucy  had  seized  him.  She  could 
not  see  his  face,  but  she  knew  from  the  tones 
of  his  voice  that  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  had 
cooled. 

Lucy  shifted  her  chair,  lifted  her  head,  and  looked 
up  into  his  eyes.  She  was  always  entrancing  from 
this  point  of  view :  the  upturned  eyelashes,  round  of 

302 


BKEAKERS    AHEAD 

the  cheeks,  and  the  line  of  the  throat  and  swelling 
shoulders  were  like  no  other  woman's  he  knew. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  go,  Max,"  she  said  in  the 
same  coaxing  tone  of  voice  that  Ellen  might  have 
used  in  begging  for  sugar-plums.  "  Just  let  the 
mortgage  and  old  Morton  and  everybody  else  go. 
Stay  here  with  me." 

Max  straightened  up  and  threw  out  his  chest  and 
a  determined  look  came  into  his  eyes.  If  he  had  had 
any  doubts  as  to  his  departure  Lucy's  pleading  voice 
had  now  removed  them. 

"  No,  can't  do  it,"  he  answered  in  mock  positive- 
ness.  "  Can't  ?pon  my  soul.  Business  is  business. 
Got  to  see  Morton  right  away;  ought  to  have  seen 
him  before."  Then  he  added  in  a  more  serious  tone, 
"  Don't  get  worried  if  I  stay  a  day  or  two  longer." 

"  Well,  then,  go,  you  great  bear,  you,"  and  she 
rose  to  her  feet  and  shook  out  her  skirts, 
wouldn't  let  you  stay,  no  matter  what  you  said." 
She  was  not  angry — she  was  only  feeling  about  try 
ing  to  put  her  finger  on  the  particular  button  that 
controlled  Max's  movements.  "  Worried  ?  Not  a 
bit  of  it.  Stay  as  long  as  you  please." 

There  was  a  button,  could  she  have  found  it.  It 
was  marked  "  Caution,"  and  when  pressed  communi 
cated  to  the  heir  of  Walnut  Hill  the  intelligence  that 
he  was  getting  too  fond  of  the  pretty  widow  and  that 
his  only  safety  lay  in  temporary  night.  It  was  a 

303 


THE   TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

favorite  trick  of  his.  In  the  charting  of  his  course 
he  had  often  found  two  other  rocks  beside  Scylla 
and  Charybdis  in  his  way;  one  was  boredom  and 
the  other  was  love.  When  a  woman  began  to  bore 
him,  or  he  found  himself  liking  her  beyond  the  limit 
of  his  philosophy,  he  invariably  found  relief  in 
change  of  scene.  Sometimes  it  was  a  sick  aunt  or  a 
persistent  lawyer  or  an  engagement  nearly  forgotten 
and  which  must  be  kept  at  all  hazards.  He  never, 
however,  left  his  inamorata  in  either  tears  or  anger. 

"  Now,  don't  be  cross,  dear,"  he  cried,  patting  her 
shoulder  with  his  fingers.  "  You  know  I  don't  want 
to  leave  you.  I  shall  be  perfectly  wretched  while 
I'm  gone,  but  there's  no  help  for  it.  Morton's  such 
a  fussy  old  fellow — always  wanting  to  do  a  lot  of 
things  that  can,  perhaps,  wait  just  as  well  as  not. 
Hauled  me  down  from  Walnut  Hill  half  a  dozen 
times  once,  and  after  all  the  fellow  wouldn't  sell. 
But  this  time  it's  important  and  I  must  go.  Bones," 
and  he  lifted  his  finger  to  the  boy,  "  tell  John  I 
want  the  light  wagon.  I'll  take  the  11.12  to  Phila 
delphia." 

The  tiger  advanced  ten  steps  and  stood  at  atten 
tion,  his  finger  at  his  eyebrow.  Lucy  turned  her  face 
toward  the  boy.  "  No,  Bones,  you'll  do  nothing  of 
the  kind.  You  tell  John  to  harness  the  grays  to  the 
drag.  I'll  go  to  the  station  with  Mr.  Feilding." 

Max  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  liked  Lucy  for 
304 


"  I  don't  want  you  to  go,   Max,"  she  said. 


BREAKEES    AHEAD 

a  good  many  things — one  was  her  independence,  an 
other  was  her  determination  to  have  her  own  way. 
Then,  again,  she  was  never  so  pretty  as  when  she  was 
a  trifle  angry;  her  color  came  and  went  so  deli- 
ciously  and  her  eyes  snapped  so  charmingly.  Lucy 
saw  the  shrug  and  caught  the  satisfied  look  in  his 
face.  She  didn't  want  to  offend  him  and  yet  she 
didn't  intend  that  he  should  go  without  a  parting 
word  from  her — tender  or  otherwise,  as  circumstances 
might  require.  She  knew  she  had  not  found  the 
button,  and  in  her  doubt  determined  for  the  present 
to  abandon  the  search. 

"  No,  Bones,  I've  changed  my  mind,"  she  called 
to  the  boy,  who  was  now  half  way  down  the  piazza. 
"  I  don't  think  I  will  go.  I'll  stop  here,  Max,  and 
do  just  what  you  want  me  to  do,"  she  added  in  a 
softened  voice.  "  Come  along,"  and  she  slipped  her 
hand  in  his  and  the  two  walked  toward  the  door  of 
his  apartments. 

When  the  light  wagon  and  satin-skinned  sorrel, 
with  John  on  the  seat  and  Bones  in  full  view,  stopped 
at  the  sanded  porch,  Mrs.  Coates  and  Lucy  formed 
part  of  the  admiring  group  gathered  about  the  turn 
out.  All  of  Mr.  Feilding's  equipages  brought  a 
crowd  of  onlookers,  no  matter  how  often  they  ap 
peared — he  had  five  with  him  at  Beach  Haven,  in 
cluding  the  four-in-hand  which  he  seldom  used — 
but  the  grays  and  the  light  wagon,  by  common  con- 

305 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

sent,  were  considered  the  most  "  stylish  "  of  them 
all,  not  excepting  the  drag. 

After  Max  had  gathered  the  reins  in  his  hands, 
had  balanced  the  whip,  had  settled  himself  com 
fortably  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  to  Lucy  had 
driven  off,  Mrs.  Coates  slipped  her  arm  through  my 
lady's  and  the  two  slowly  sauntered  to  their  rooms. 

"  Charming  man,  is  he  not  ?  "  Mrs.  Coates  ven 
tured.  "  Such  a  pity  he  is  not  married !  You  know 
I  often  wonder  whom  such  men  will  marry.  Some 
pretty  school-girl,  perhaps,  or  prim  woman  of  forty." 

Lucy  laughed. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  you  are  wrong.  The 
bread-and-butter  miss  would  never  suit  Max,  and  he's 
past  the  eye-glass  and  side-curl  age.  The  next  phase, 
if  he  ever  reaches  it,  will  be  somebody  who  will 
make  him  do — not  as  he  pleases,  but  as  she  pleases. 
.A  man  like  Max  never  cares  for  a  woman  any  length 
of  time  who  humors  his  whims." 

"  Well,  he  certainly  was  most  attentive  to  that 
pretty  Miss  Billeton.  You  remember  her  father  was 
lost  overboard  four  years  ago  from  his  yacht.  Mr. 
Coates  told  me  he  met  her  only  a  day  or  so  ago ;  she 
had  come  down  to  look  after  the  new  ball-room  they 
are  adding  to  the  old  house.  You  know  her,  don't 
you?" 

"  No — never  heard  of  her.  How  old  is  she  ?  " 
rejoined  Lucy  in  a  careless  tone. 

306 


BREAKERS    AHEAD 

"I  should  say  twenty,  maybe  twenty-two — you 
can't  always  tell  about  these  girls ;  very  pretty  and 
very  rich.  I  am  quite  sure  I  saw  Mr.  Feilding  driv 
ing  with  her  just  before  he  moved  his  horses  down 
here,  and  she  looked  prettier  than  ever.  But  then 
he  has  a  new  flame  every  month,  I  hear." 

"  Where  were  they  driving  ?  "  There  was  a  slight 
tone  of  curiosity  in  Lucy's  voice.  None  of  Max's 
love-affairs  ever  affected  her,  of  course,  except  as  they 
made  for  his  happiness ;  all  undue  interest,  therefore, 
was  out  of  place,  especially  before  Mrs.  Coates. 

"  I  don't  remember.  Along  the  Eiver  Eoad,  per 
haps — he  generally  drives  there  when  he  has  a  pretty 
woman  with  him." 

Lucy  bit  her  lip.  Some  other  friend,  then,  had 
been  promised  the  drag  with  the  red  body  and  yellow 
wheels !  This  was  why  he  couldn't  come  to  Yardley 
when  she  wrote  for  him.  She  had  found  the  button. 
It  rang  up  another  woman. 

The  door  between  the  connecting  sitting-rooms  was 
not  opened  that  day,  nor  that  night,  for  that  matter. 
Lucy  pleaded  a  headache  and  wished  to  be  alone. 
She  really  wanted  to  look  the  field  over  and  see  where 
her  line  of  battle  was  weak.  Not  that  she  really 
cared — unless  the  girl  should  upset  her  plans;  not 
as  Jane  would  have  cared  had  Doctor  John  been 
guilty  of  such  infidelity.  The  eclipse  was  what  hurt 
her.  She  had  held  the  centre  of  the  stage  with  the 

307 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

lime-light  full  upon  her  all  her  life,  and  she  intended 
to  retain  it  against  Miss  Billeton  or  Miss  Anybody 
else.  She  decided  to  let  Max  know  at  once,  and  in 
plain  terms,  giving  him  to  understand  that  she  didn't 
intend  to  be  made  a  fool  of,  reminding  him  at  the 
same  time  that  there  were  plenty  of  others  who  cared 
for  her,  or  who  would  care  for  her  if  she  should  but 
raise  her  little  finger.  She  would  raise  it,  too,  even 
if  she  packed  her  trunks  and  started  for  Paris — and 
took  him  with  her. 

These  thoughts  rushed  through  her  mind  as  she 
sat  by  the  window  and  looked  out  over  the  sea.  The 
tide  was  making  flood,  and  the  fishing-boats  anchored 
in  the  inlet  were  pointing  seaward.  She  could  see, 
too,  the  bathers  below  and  the  children  digging  in 
the  sand.  Now  and  then  a  boat  would  head  for  the 
inlet,  drop  its  sail,  and  swing  round  motionless  with 
the  others.  Then  a  speck  would  break  away  from 
the  anchored  craft  and  with  the  movement  of  a  water- 
spider  land  the  fishermen  ashore. 

None  of  these  things  interested  her.  She  could 
not  have  told  whether  the  sun  shone  or  whether  the 
sky  was  fair  or  dull.  Neither  was  she  lonely,  nor  did 
she  miss  Max.  She  was  simply  angry — disgusted— 
disappointed  at  the  situation;  at  herself,  at  the 
woman  who  had  come  between  them,  at  the  threat 
ened  failure  of  her  plans.  One  moment  she  was 
building  up  a  house  of  cards  in  which  she  held  all 

308 


BKEAKEKS    AHEAD 

the  trumps,  and  the  next  instant  she  had  tumbled  it 
to  the  ground.  One  thing  she  was  determined  upon 
— not  to  take  second  place.  She  would  have  all  of 
him  or  none  of  him. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  day  Max  returned.  He 
had  not  seen  Morton,  nor  any  of  his  clerks,  nor  any 
body  connected  with  his  office.  Neither  had  he  sent 
him  any  message  or  written  him  any  letter.  Morton 
might  have  been  dead  and  buried  a  century  so  far 
as  Max  or  his  affairs  were  concerned.  Nor  had  he 
laid  his  eyes  on  the  beautiful  Miss  Billeton;  nor 
visited  her  house;  nor  written  her  any  letters;  nor 
inquired  for  her.  What  he  did  do  was  to  run  out  to 
Walnut  Hill,  have  a  word  with  his  manager,  and  slip 
back  to  town  again  and  bury  himself  in  his  club. 
Most  of  the  time  he  read  the  magazines,  some  pages 
two  or  three  times  over.  Once  he  thought  he  would 
look  up  one  or  two  of  his  women  friends  at  their 
homes — those  who  might  still  be  in  town — and  then 
gave  it  up  as  not  being  worth  the  trouble.  At  the 
end  of  the  third  day  he  started  for  Barnegat.  The 
air  was  bad  in  the  city,  he  said  to  himself,  and  every 
body  he  met  was  uninteresting.  He  would  go  back, 
hitch  up  the  grays,  and  he  and  Lucy  have  a  spin 
down  the  beach.  Sea  air  always  did  agree  with  him, 
and  he  was  a  fool  to  leave  it. 

Lucy  met  him  at  the  station  in  answer  to  his  tele 
gram  sent  over  from  Warehold.  She  was  dressed 

309 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

in  her  very  best:  a  double-breasted  jacket  and  straw 
turban,  a  gossamer  veil  wound  about  it.  Her  cheeks 
were  like  two  red  peonies  and  her  eyes  bright  as 
diamonds.  She  was  perched  up  in  the  driver's  seat 
of  the  drag,  and  handled  the  reins  and  whip  with 
the  skill  of  a  turfman.  This  time  Bones,  the  tiger, 
did  not  spring  into  his  perch  as  they  whirled  from 
the  station  in  the  direction  of  the  beach.  His  com 
pany  was  not  wanted. 

They  talked  of  Max's  trip,  of  the  mortgage,  and 
of  Morton ;  of  how  hot  it  was  in  town  and  how  cool 
it  was  on  her  portico;  of  Mrs.  Coates  and  of  pater 
familias  Coates,  who  held  a  mortgage  on  Beach 
Haven;  of  the  dance  the  night  before — Max  leading 
in  the  conversation  and  she  answering  either  in  mono 
syllables  or  not  at  all,  until  Max  hazarded  the  state 
ment  that  he  had  been  bored  to  death  waiting  for 
Morton,  who  never  put  in  an  appearance,  and 
that  the  only  human  being,  male  or  female,  he  had 
seen  in  town  outside  the  members  of  the  club,  was 
Sue. 

They  had  arrived  off  the  Life-Saving  Station  now, 
and  Archie  had  called  the  captain  to  the  door,  and 
both  stood  looking  at  them,  the  boy  waving  his  hand 
and  the  captain  following  them  with  his  eyes.  Had 
either  of  them  caught  the  captain's  remark  they, 
perhaps,  would  have  drawn  rein  and  asked  for  an 
explanation : 

310 


BKEAKEKS    AHEAD 

"  Gay  lookin'  hose-carriage,  ain't  it  ?  Looks  as 
if  they  was  runnin'  to  a  fire !  " 

But  they  didn't  hear  it ;  would  not,  probably  have 
heard  it,  had  the  captain  shouted  it  in  their  ears. 
Lucy  was  intent  on  opening  up  a  subject  which  had 
lain  dormant  in  her  mind  since  the  morning  of 
Max's  departure,  and  the  gentleman  himself  was 
trying  to  cipher  out  what  new  "  kink,"  as  he  ex 
pressed  it  to  himself,  had  "  got  it  into  her  head." 

When  they  had  passed  the  old  House  of  Refuge 
Lucy  drew  rein  and  stopped  the  drag  where  the 
widening  circle  of  the  incoming  tide  could  bathe  the 
horses'  feet.  She  was  still  uncertain  as  to  how  she 
would  lead  up  to  the  subject-matter  without  betray 
ing  her  own  jealousy  or,  more  important  still,  with 
out  losing  her  temper.  This  she  rarely  displayed, 
no  matter  how  goading  the  provocation.  Nobody 
had  any  use  for  an  ill-tempered  woman,  not  in  her 
atmosphere ;  and  no  fly  that  she  had  ever  known  had 
been  caught  by  vinegar  when  seeking  honey.  There 
might  be  vinegar-pots  to  be  found  in  her  larder,  but 
they  were  kept  behind  closed  doors  and  sampled 
only  when  she  was  alone.  As  she  sat  looking 
out  to  sea,  Max's  brain  still  at  work  on  the  prob 
lem  of  her  unusual  mood,  a  schooner  shifted  her 
mainsail  in  the  light  breeze  and  set  her  course  for 
the  inlet. 

"  That's  the  regular  weekly  packet,"  Max  ven- 
311 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

tured.  "  She's  making  for  Farguson's  ship-yard. 
She  runs  between  Amboy  and  Barnegat — Captain 
Ambrose  Farguson  sails  her."  At  times  like  these 
any  topic  was  good  enough  to  begin  on. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  Lucy  asked,  looking  at 
the  incoming  schooner  from  under  her  half-closed 
lids.  The  voice  came  like  the  thin  piping  of  a 
flute  preceding  the  orchestral  crash,  merely  sounded 
so  as  to  let  everybody  know  it  was  present. 

"  One  of  my  carriages  was  shipped  by  her.  I 
paid  Captain  Farguson  the  freight  just  before  I 
went  away." 

"'  What's  her  name  ?  " — slight  tremolo — only  a 
note  or  two. 

"The  Polly  Walters/'  droned  Max,  talking  at 
random,  mind  neither  on  the  sloop  nor  her  captain. 

"  Named  after  his  wife  3  "  The  flute-like  notes 
came  more  crisply. 

"  Yes,  so  he  told  me."  Max  had  now  ceased  to 
give  any  attention  to  his  answers.  He  had  about 
made  up  his  mind  that  something  serious  was  the 
matter  and  that  he  would  ask  her  and  find  out. 

"  Ought  to  be  called  the  Max  Feilding,  from  the 
way  she  tacks  about.  She's  changed  her  course  three 
times  since  I've  been  watching  her." 

Max  shot  a  glance  athwart  his  shoulder  and  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  pretty  lips  thinned  and  straight 
ened  and  the  half -closed  eyes  and  wrinkled  forehead. 

312 


BREAKEES    AHEAD 

He  was  evidently  the  disturbing  cause,  but  in  what 
way  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  see.  That  she 
was  angry  to  the  tips  of  her  fingers  was  beyond  ques 
tion  ;  the  first  time  he  had  seen  her  thus  in  all  their 
acquaintance. 

«  Yes — that  would  fit  her  exactly/'  he  answered 
with  a  smile  and  with  a  certain  soothing  tone  in  his 
voice.  "  Every  tack  her  captain  makes  brings  him 
the  nearer  to  the  woman  he  loves." 

"  Eather  poetic,  Max,  but  slightly  farcical. 
Every  tack  you  make  lands  you  in  a  different  port— 
with  a  woman  waiting  in  every  one  of  them."  The 
first  notes  of  the  overture  had  now  been  struck. 

"  ]STo  one  was  waiting  in  Philadelphia  for  me 
except  Sue,  and  I  only  met  her  by  accident,"  he 
said  good-naturedly,  and  in  a  tone  that  showed  he 
would  not  quarrel,  no  matter  what  the  provocation; 
"  she  came  in  to  see  her  doctor.  Didn't  stay  an 
hour." 

"  Did  you  take  her  driving  ?  "  This  came  in  a 
thin,  piccolo  tone — barely  enough  room  for  it  to 
escape  through  her  lips.  All  the  big  drums  and 
heavy  brass  were  now  being  moved  up. 

"  ~No ;  had  nothing  to  take  her  out  in.  Why  do 
you  ask?  What  has  happened,  little " 

"  Take  anybody  else  ?  "  she  interrupted. 

"  No." 

He  spoke  quite  frankly  and  simply.    At  any  other 
313 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAENEGAT 

time  she  would  have  believed  him.  She  had  always 
done  so  in  matters  of  this  kind,  partly  because  she 
didn't  much  care  and  partly  because  she  made  it  a 
point  never  to  doubt  the  word  of  a  man,  either  by 
suspicion  or  inference,  who  was  attentive  to  her. 
This  time  she  did  care,  and  she  intended  to  tell  him 
so.  All  she  dreaded  was  that  the  big  horns  and 
the  tom-toms  would  get  away  from  her  leadership 
and  the  hoped-for,  correctly  played  symphony  end 
in  an  uproar. 

"  Max,"  she  said,  turning  her  head  and  lifting 
her  finger  at  him  with  the  movement  of  a  conductor's 
baton,  "  how  can  you  lie  to  me  like  that  ?  You  never 
wrent  near  your  lawyer;  you  went  to  see  Miss  Bille- 
ton,  and  youVe  spent  every  minute  with  her  since 
you  left  me.  Don't  tell  me  you  didn't.  I  know 
everything  you've  done,  and—  Bass  drums,  bass 
viols,  bassoons^everything — was  loose  now. 

She  had  given  up  her  child  to  be  with  him! 
Everything,  in  fact — all  her  people  at  Yardley;  her 
dear  old  nurse.  She  had  lied  to  Jane  about  chaperon 
ing  Sue — all  to  come  down  and  keep  him  from  being 
lonely.  What  she  wranted  was  a  certain  confidence 
in  return.  It  made  not  the  slightest  difference  to 
her  how  many  women  he  loved,  or  how  many  women 
loved  him ;  she  didn't  love  him,  and  she  never  would ; 
but  unless  she  was  treated  differently  from  a  child 
and  like  the  woman  that  she  was,  she  was  going 

314 


BKEAKEKS    AHEAD 

straight  back  to  Yardley,  and  then  back  to  Paris, 
etc.,  etc. 

She  knew,  as  she  rushed  on  in  a  flood  of  abuse  such 
as  only  a  woman  can  let  loose  when  she  is  thoroughly 
jealous  and  entirely  angry,  that  she  was  destroying 
the  work  of  months  of  plotting,  and  that  he  would 
be  lost  to  her  forever,  but  she  was  powerless  to  check 
the  torrent  of  her  invective.  Only  when  her  breath 
gave  out  did  she  stop. 

Max  had  sat  still  through  it  all,  his  eyes  express 
ing  first  astonishment  and  then  a  certain  snap  of 
admiration,  as  he  saw  the  color  rising  and  falling  in 
her  cheeks.  It  was  not  the  only  time  in  his  experi 
ence  that  he  had  had  to  face  similar  outbursts.  It 
was  the  first  time,  however,  that  he  had  not  felt  like 
striking  back.  Other  women's  outbreaks  had  bored 
him  and  generally  had  ended  his  interest  in  them — 
this  one  was  more  charming  than  ever.  He  liked, 
too,  her  American  pluck  and  savage  independence. 
Jealous  she  certainly  was,  but  there  was  no  whine 
about  it ;  nor  was  there  any  flop  at  the  close — floppy 
women  he  detested — had  always  done  so.  Lucy 
struck  straight  out  from  her  shoulder  and  feared 
nothing. 

As  she  raged  on,  the  grays  beating  the  water  with 
their  well-polished  hoofs,  he  continued  to  sit  per 
fectly  still,  never  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face  nor 
changing  his  patient,  tolerant  expression.  The  best 

315 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

plan,  lie  knew,  was  to  let  all  the  steam  out  of  the 
boiler  and  then  gradually  rake  the  fires. 

"  My  dear  little  woman/7  he  began,  "  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  never  laid  eyes  on  Morton;  didn't  want 
to,  in  fact.  All  that  was  an  excuse  to  get  away.  I 
thought  you  wanted  a  rest,  and  I  went  away  to  let 
you  have  it.  Miss  Billeton  I  haven't  seen  for  three 
months,  and  couldn't  if  I  would,  for  she  is  engaged 
to  her  cousin  and  is  now  in  Paris  buying  her  wed 
ding  clothes.  I  don't  know  who  has  been  humbug 
ging  you,  but  they've  done  it  very  badly.  There  is 
not  one  word  of  truth  in  what  you've  said  from  be 
ginning  to  end." 

There  is  a  certain  ring  in  a  truthful  statement 
that  overcomes  all  doubts.  Lucy  felt  this  before 
Max  had  finished.  She  felt,  too,  with  a  sudden  thrill, 
that  she  still  held  him.  Then  there  came  the  in 
stantaneous  desire  to  wipe  out  all  traces  of  the  out 
burst  and  keep  his  good-will. 

"  And  you  swear  it  ?  "  she  asked,  her  belief  al 
ready  asserting  itself  in  her  tones,  her  voice  falling 
to  its  old  seductive  pitch. 

"  On  my  honor  as  a  man,"  he  answered  simply. 

For  a  time  she  remained  silent,  her  mind  working 
behind  her  mask  of  eyes  and  lips,  the  setting  sun 
slanting  across  the  beach  and  lighting  up  her  face 
and  hair,  the  grays  splashing  the  suds  with  their 
impatient  feet.  Max  kept  his  gaze  upon  her.  He 

316 


BEEAKEKS    AHEAD 

saw  that  the  outbreak  was  over  and  that  she  was  a 
little  ashamed  of  her  tirade.  He  saw,  too,  man  of  the 
world  as  he  was,  that  she  was  casting  about  in  her 
mind  for  some  way  in  which  she  could  regain  for  her 
self  her  old  position  without  too  much  humiliation. 

"  Don't  say  another  word,  little  woman,"  he  said 
in  his  kindest  tone.  "  You  didn't  mean  a  word  of 
it;  you  haven't  been  well  lately,  and  I  oughtn't  to 
have  left  you.  Tighten  up  your  reins;  we'll  drive 
on  if  you  don't  mind." 

That  night  after  the  moon  had  set  and  the  lights 
had  been  turned  out  along  the  boardwalk  and  the 
upper  and  lower  porticos  and  all  Beach  Haven  had 
turned  in  for  the  night,  and  Lucy  had  gone  to  her 
apartments,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coates  and  the  rest  of 
them,  single  and  double,  were  asleep,  Max,  who  had 
been  pacing  up  and  down  his  dressing-room,  stopped 
suddenly  before  his  mirror,  and  lifting  the  shade 
from  the  lamp,  made  a  critical  examination  of  his 
face. 

"  Forty,  and  I  look  it !  "  he  said,  pinching  his 
chin  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  turning  his 
cheek  so  that  the  light  would  fall  on  the  few  gray 
hairs  about  his  temples.  "  That  beggar  Miggs  said 
so  yesterday  at  the  club.  By  gad,  how  pretty  she 
was,  and  how  her  eyes  snapped!  I  didn't  think  it 
was  in  her !  " 

317 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

THE  SWEDE'S  STORY 

Captain  Holt  had  selected  his  crew — picked  surf- 
men,  every  one  of  them — and  the  chief  of  the  bureau 
had  endorsed  the  list  without  comment  or  inquiry. 
The  captain's  own  appointment  as  keeper  of  the  new 
Life-Saving  Station  was  due  as  much  to  his  knowl 
edge  of  men  as  to  his  skill  as  a  seaman,  and  so  when 
his  list  was  sent  in — men  he  said  he  could  "  vouch 
for"- — it  took  but  a  moment  for  the  chief  to  write 
"  Approved  "  across  its  face. 

Isaac  Polhemus  came  first:  Sixty  years  of  age, 
silent,  gray,  thick-set;  face  scarred  and  seamed  by 
many  weathers,  but  fresh  as  a  baby's ;  two  china-blue 
eyes — peep-holes  through  which  you  looked  into  his 
open  heart;  shoulders  hard  and  tough  as  cordwood; 
hands  a  bunch  of  knots;  legs  like  snubbing-posts ; 
body  quick-moving;  brain  quick-thinking;  alert  as 
a  dog  when  on  duty,  calm  as  a  sleepy  cat  beside  a 
stove  when  his  time  was  his  own.  Sixty  only  in 
years,  this  man ;  forty  in  strength  and  in  skill,  twenty 
in  suppleness,  and  a  one-year-old  toddling  infant  in 

318 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

all  that  made  for  guile.  "  Uncle  Ike  "  some  of  the 
younger  men  once  called  him,  wondering  behind 
their  hands  whether  he  was  not  too  old  and  believing 
all  the  time  that  he  was.  "  Uncle  Ike  "  they  still 
called  him,  but  it  was  a  title  of  affection  and  pride ; 
affection  for  the  man  underneath  the  blue  woollen 
shirt,  and  pride  because  they  were  deemed  worthy 
to  pull  an  oar  beside  him. 

The  change  took  place  the  winter  before  when  he 
was  serving  at  Manasquan  and  when  he  pulled  four 
men  single-handed  from  out  of  a  surf  that  would  have 
staggered  the  bravest.  There  was  no  life-boat  within 
reach  and  no  hand  to  help.  It  was  at  night — a 
snowstorm  raging  and  the  sea  a  corral  of  hungry 
beasts  fighting  the  length  of  the  beach.  The  ship 
wrecked  crew  had  left  their  schooner  pounding  on  the 
outer  bar,  and  finding  their  cries  drowned  by  the 
roar  of  the  waters,  had  taken  to  their  boat.  She 
came  bow  on,  the  sea-drenched  sailors  clinging  to 
her  sides.  Uncle  Isaac  Polhemus  caught  sight  of 
her  juet  as  a  savage  pursuing  roller  dived  under  her 
stern,  lifted  the  frail  shell  on  its  broad  back,  and 
whirled  it  bottom  side  up  and  stern  foremost  on  to 
the  beach.  Dashing  into  the  suds,  he  jerked  two  of  the 
crew  to  their  feet  before  they  knew  what  had  struck 
them;  then  sprang  back  for  the  others  clinging  to 
the  seats  and  slowly  drowning  in  the  smother.  Twice 
he  plunged  headlong  after  them,  bracing  himself 

319 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

against  the  backsuck,  then  with  the  help  of  his  steel- 
like  grip  all  four  were  dragged  clear  of  the  souse. 
Ever  after  it  was  "  Uncle  Isaac  "  or  "  that  old  hang- 
on/'  but  always  with  a  lifting  of  the  chin  in  pride. 

Samuel  Green  came  next:  Forty-five,  long,  Lin 
coln-bodied,  and  bony;  coal-black  hair,  coal-black 
eyes,  and  charcoal-black  mustache;  neck  like  a 
loop  in  standing  rigging;  arms  long  as  cant-hooks, 
with  the  steel  grips  for  fingers ;  sluggish  in  movement 
and  slow  in  action  until  the  supreme  moment  of  dan 
ger  tautened  his  nerves  to  breaking  point ;  then  came 
an  instantaneous  spring,  quick  as  the  recoil  of  a 
parted  hawser.  All  his  life  a  fisherman  except  the 
five  years  he  spent  in  the  Arctic  and  the  year  he 
served  at  Squan ;  later  he  had  helped  in  the  volunteer 
crew  alongshore.  Loving  the  service,  he  had  sent 
word  over  to  Captain  Holt  that  he'd  like  "  to  be  put 
on,"  to  which  the  captain  had  sent  back  word  by  the 
same  messenger  "  Tell  him  he  is  put  on."  And  he 
was,  as  soon  as  the  papers  were  returned  from  Wash 
ington.  Captain  Nat  had  no  record  to  look  up  or  in 
quiries  to  make  as  to  the  character  or  fitness  of  Sam 
Green.  He  was  the  man  who  the  winter  before  had 
slipped  a  rope  about  his  body,  plunged  into  the  surf 
and  swam  out  to  the  brig  Gorgus  and  brought  back 
three  out  of  the  five  men  lashed  to  the  rigging,  all  too 
benumbed  to  make  fast  the  shot-line  fired  across  her 
deck. 

320 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

Charles  Morgan's  name  followed  in  regular  order, 
and  then  Parks — men  who  had  sailed  with  Captain 
Holt,  and  whose  word  and  pluck  he  could  depend 
upon;  and  Mulligan  from  Barnegat,  who  could  pull 
a  boat  with  the  best  of  them;  and  last,  and  least  in 
years,  those  two  slim,  tightly  knit,  lithe  young  tiger- 
cats,  Tod  and  Archie. 

Captain  Nat  had  overhauled  each  man  and  had 
inspected  him  as  closely  as  he  would  have  done  the 
timber  for  a  new  mast  or  the  manila  to  make  its 
rigging.  Here  was  a  service  that  required  cool  heads, 
honest  hearts,  and  the  highest  technical  skill,  and  the 
men  under  him  must  be  sound  to  the  core.  He  in 
tended  to  do  his  duty,  and  so  should  every  man 
subject  to  his  orders.  The  Government  had  trusted 
him  and  he  held  himself  responsible.  This  would 
probably  be  his  last  duty,  and  it  would  be  well  done. 
He  was  childless,  sixty-five  years  old,  and  had  been 
idle  for  years.  ~Now  he  would  show  his  neighbors 
something  of  his  skill  and  his  power  to  command. 
He  did  not  need  the  pay;  he  needed  the  occupation 
and  the  being  in  touch  with  the  things  about  him. 
For  the  last  fifteen  or  more  years  he  had  nursed  a 
sorrow  and  lived  the  life  almost  of  a  recluse.  It 
was  time  he  threw  it  off. 

During  the  first  week  of  service,  with  his  crew 
about  him,  he  explained  to  them  in  minute  detail 
their  several  duties.  Each  day  in  the  week  would 

321 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

have  its  special  work :  Monday  would  be  beach  drill, 
practising  with  the  firing  gun  and  line  and  the  safety 
car.  Tuesday  was  boat  drill;  running  the  boat  on 
its  wagon  to  the  edge  of  the  sea,  unloading  it,  and 
pushing  it  into  the  surf,  each  man  in  his  place,  oars 
poised,  the  others  springing  in  and  taking  their 
seats  beside  their  mates.  On  Wednesdays  flag  drills ; 
practising  with  the  international  code  of  signals,  so 
as  to  communicate  with  stranded  vessels.  Thurs 
days,  beach  apparatus  again.  Friday,  resuscitation 
of  drowning  men.  Saturday,  scrub-day;  every  man 
except  himself  and  the  cook  (each  man  was  cook  in 
turn  for  a  week)  on  his  knees  with  bucket  and  brush, 
and  every  floor,  chair,  table,  and  window  scoured 
clean.  Sunday,  a  day  of  rest,  except  for  the  beach 
patrol,  which  at  night  never  ceased,  and  which  by 
day  only  ceased  when  the  sky  was  clear  of  snow  and 
fog. 

This  night  patrol  would  be  divided  into  watches 
of  four  hours  each  at  eight,  twelve,  and  four.  Two 
of  the  crew  were  to  make  the  tramp  of  the  beach, 
separating  opposite  the  Station,  one  going  south  two 
and  a  half  miles  to  meet  the  surfman  from  the  next 
Station,  and  the  other  going  north  to  the  inlet;  ex 
changing  their  brass  checks  each  with  the  other,  as 
a  record  of  their  faithfulness. 

In  addition  to  these  brass  checks  each  patrol  would 
carry  three  Coston  signal  cartridges  in  a  water-proof 

322 


THE    SWEDE'S    STORY 

box,  and  a  holder  into  which  they  were  fitted,  the 
handle  having  an  igniter  working  on  a  spring  to 
explode  the  cartridge,  which  burned  a  red  light. 
These  will-o'-the-wisps,  flashed  suddenly  from  out  a 
desolate  coast,  have  sent  a  thrill  of  hope  through  the 
heart  of  many  a  man  clinging  to  frozen  rigging  or 
lashed  to  some  piece  of  wreckage  that  the  hungry 
surf,  lying  in  wait,  would  pounce  upon  and  chew 
to  shreds. 

The  men  listened  gravely  to  the  captain's  words 
and  took  up  their  duties.  Most  of  them  knew  them 
before,  and  no  minute  explanations  were  necessary. 
Skilled  men  understand  the  value  of  discipline  and 
prefer  it  to  any  milder  form  of  government.  Archie 
was  the  only  member  who  raised  his  eyes  in  aston 
ishment  when  the  captain,  looking  his  way,  men 
tioned  the  scrubbing  and  washing,  each  man  to  take 
his  turn,  but  he  made  no  reply  except  to  nudge  Tod 
and  say  under  his  breath: 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  Aunt  Lucy's  face  when 
she  comes  some  Saturday  morning?  She'll  be 
pleased,  won't  she  ?  "  As  to  the  cooking,  that  did  not 
bother  him;  he  and  Tod  had  cooked  many  a  meal 
on  Fogarty's  stove,  and  mother  Fogarty  had  always 
said  Archie  could  beat  her  any  day  making  biscuit 
and  doughnuts  and  frying  ham. 

Before  the  second  week  was  out  the  Station  had 
fallen  into  its  regular  routine.  The  casual  visitor 

323 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKiSTEGAT 

during  the  sunny  hours  of  the  soft  September  days 
when  practice  drill  was  over  might  see  only  a  lonely 
house  built  on  the  sand;  and  upon  entering,  a  few 
men  leaning  back  in  their  chairs  against  the  wall  of 
the  living-room  reading  the  papers  or  smoking  their 
pipes,  and  perhaps  a  few  others  leisurely  overhauling 
the  apparatus,  making  minor  repairs,  or  polishing 
up  some  detail  the  weather  had  dulled.  At  night, 
too,  with  the  radiance  of  the  moon  making  a  pathway 
of  silver  across  the  gentle  swell  of  the  sleepy  surf, 
he  would  doubtless  wonder  at  their  continued  idle 
life  as  he  watched  the  two  surf  men  separate  and  begin 
their  walk  up  and  down  the  beach  radiant  in  the 
moonlight.  But  he  would  change  his  mind  should 
he  chance  upon  a  north-easterly  gale,  the  sea  a  froth 
in  which  no  boat  could  live,  the  slant  of  a  sou'wester 
the  only  protection  against  the  cruel  lash  of  the  wind. 
If  this  glimpse  was  not  convincing,  let  him  stand  in 
the  door  of  their  house  in  the  stillness  of  a  winter's 
night,  and  catch  the  shout  and  rush  of  the  crew  tum 
bling  from  their  bunks  at  the  cry  of  "  Wreck 
ashore !  "  from  the  lips  of  some  breathless  patrol 
who  had  stumbled  over  sand-dunes  or  plunged 
through  snowdrifts  up  to  his  waist  to  give  warning. 
It  will  take  less  than  a  minute  to  swing  wide  the 
doors,  grapple  the  life-boat  and  apparatus  and  whirl 
them  over  the  dunes  to  the  beach ;  and  but  a  moment 
more  to  send  a  solid  shot  flying  through  the  air  on 

324 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

its  mission  of  mercy.  And  there  is  no  time  lost. 
Ten  men  have  been  landed  in  forty-five  minutes 
through  or  over  a  surf  that  could  be  heard  for  miles ; 
rescuers  and  rescued  half  dead.  But  no  man  let 
go  his  grip  nor  did  any  heart  quail.  Their  duty  was 
in  front  of  them ;  that  was  what  the  Government  paid 
for,  and  that  was  what  they  would  earn — every 
penny  of  it. 

The  Station  house  in  order,  the  captain  was  ready 
for  visitors — those  he  wanted.  Those  he  did  not 
want — the  riffraff  of  the  ship-yard  and  the  loungers 
about  the  taverns — he  told  politely  to  stay  away ;  and 
as  the  land  was  Government  property  and  his  will 
supreme,  he  was  obeyed. 

Little  Ellen  had  been  the  first  guest,  and  by  special 
invitation. 

"  All  ready,  Miss  Jane,  for  you  and  the  doctor 
and  the  Pond  Lily ;  bring  her  down  any  time.  That's 
what  kind  o'  makes  it  lonely  lyin'  shut  up  with  the 
men.  We  ain't  got  no  flowers  bloomin'  'round,  and 
the  sand  gits  purty  white  and  blank-lookin'  some 
times.  Bring  her  down,  you  and  the  doctor;  she's 
better'n  a  pot  full  o'  daisies." 

The  doctor,  thus  commanded,  brought  her  over 
in  his  gig,  Jane,  beside  him,  holding  the  child  in 
her  lap.  And  Archie  helped  them  out,  lifting  his 
good  mother  in  his  arms  clear  of  the  wheel,  skirts 
and  all — the  crew  standing  about  looking  on.  Some 

325 


THE    TIDES    OE    BAKNEGAT 

of  them  knew  Jane  and  came  in  for  a  hearty  hand 
shake,  and  all  of  them  knew  the  doctor.  There  was 
hardly  a  man  among  them  wrhose  cabin  he  had  not 
visited — not  once,  but  dozens  of  times. 

With  her  fair  cheeks,  golden  curls,  and  spotless 
frock,  the  child,  among  those  big  men,  some  in  their 
long  hip  boots  and  rough  reefing  jackets,  looked  like 
some  fairy  that  had  come  in  with  the  morning  mist 
and  who  might  be  off  on  the  next  breeze. 

Archie  had  her  hugged  close  to  his  breast  and 
had  started  in  to  show  her  the  cot  where  he  slept, 
the  kitchen  where  he  was  to  cook,  and  the  peg  in  the 
hall  where  he  hung  his  sou'wester  and  tarpaulins — 
every  surfman  had  his  peg,  order  being  imperative 
with  Captain  Nat — when  that  old  sea-dog  caught  the 
child  out  of  the  young  fellow's  arms  and  placed  her 
feet  on  the  sand. 

"  No,  Cobden," — that  was  another  peculiarity  of 
the  captain's, — every  man  went  by  his  last  name, 
and  he  had  begun  with  Archie  to  show  the  men  he 
meant  it.  "  No,  that  little  posy  is  mine  for  to-day. 
Come  along,  you  rosebud;  I'm  goin'  to  show  you 
the  biggest  boat  you  ever  saw,  and  a  gun  on  wheels; 
and  I've  got  a  lot  o'  shells  the  men  has  been  pickin' 
up  for  ye.  Oh,  but  you're  goin'  to  have  a  beautiful 
time,  lassie !  " 

The  child  looked  up  in  the  captain's  face,  and  her 
wee  hand  tightened  around  his  rough  stubs  of  fingers. 

326 


THE    SWEDE'S    STORY 

Archie  then  turned  to  Jane  and  with  Tod's  help  the 
three  made  a  tour  of  the  house,  the  doctor  following, 
inspecting  the  captain's  own  room  with  its  desk  and 
papers,  the  kitchen  with  all  its  appointments,  the 
outhouse  for  wood  and  coal,  the  staircase  leading  to 
the  sleeping-rooms  ahove,  and  at  the  very  top  the 
small  ladder  leading  to  the  cupola  on  the  roof,  where 
the  lookout  kept  watch  on  clear  days  for  incoming 
steamers.  On  their  return  Mulligan  spread  a  white 
oil-cloth  on  the  pine  table  and  put  out  a  china  plate 
filled  with  some  cake  that  he  had  baked  the  night 
before,  and  which  Green  supplemented  by  a  pitcher 
of  water  from  the  cistern. 

Each  one  did  something  to  please  her.  Archie 
handed  her  the  biggest  piece  of  cake  on  the  dish, 
and  Uncle  Isaac  left  the  room  in  a  hurry  and 
stumbling  upstairs  went  through  his  locker  and 
hauled  out  the  head  of  a  wooden  doll  which  he  had 
picked  up  on  the  beach  in  one  of  his  day  patrols 
and  which  he  had  been  keeping  for  one  of  his  grand 
children — all  blighted  with  the  sun  and  scarred  with 
salt  water,  but  still  showing  a  full  set  of  features, 
much  to  Ellen's  delight;  and  Sam  Green  told  her 
of  his  own  little  girl,  just  her  age,  who  lived  up  in 
the  village  and  whom  he  saw  every  two  weeks,  and 
whose  hair  was  just  the  color  of  hers.  Meanwhile 
the  doctor  chatted  with  the  men,  and  Jane,  with  her 
arm  locked  in  Archie's,  so  proud  and  so  tender  over 

327 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAENEGAT 

him,  inspected  each  appointment  and  comfort  of  the 
house  with  ever-increasing  wonder. 

And  so,  with  the  visit  over,  the  gig  was  loaded 
up,  and  with  Ellen  waving  her  hand  to  the  men 
and  kissing  her  finger-tips  in  true  French  style 
to  the  captain  and  Archie,  and  the  crew  respond 
ing  in  a  hearty  cheer,  the  party  drove  past  the 
old  House  of  Refuge,  and  so  on  back  to  Warehold 
and  Yardley. 

One  August  afternoon,  some  days  after  this  visit, 
Tod  stood  in  the  door  of  the  Station  looking  out  to 
sea.  The  glass  had  been  falling  all  day  and  a  dog- 
day  haze  had  settled  down  over  the  horizon.  This, 
as  the  afternoon  advanced,  had  become  so  thick  that 
the  captain  had  ordered  out  the  patrols,  and  Archie 
and  Green  were  already  tramping  the  beach — Green 
to  the  inlet  and  Archie  to  meet  the  surfmen  of  the 
station  below.  Park,  who  was  cook  this  week,  had 
gone  to  the  village  for  supplies,  and  so  the  captain 
and  Tod  were  alone  in  the  house,  the  others,  with  the 
exception  of  Morgan,  who  was  at  his  home  in  the  vil 
lage  with  a  sprained  ankle,  being  at  work  some  dis 
tance  away  on  a  crosshead  over  which  the  life-line 
was  always  fired  in  gun  practice. 

Suddenly  Tod,  who  was  leaning  against  the  jamb 
of  the  door  speculating  over  what  kind  of  weather 
the  night  would  bring,  and  wondering  whether  the 

328 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

worst  of  it  would  fall  in  his  watch,  jerked  his  neck 
out  of  his  woollen  shirt  and  strained  his  eyes  in  the 
direction  of  the  beach  until  they  rested  upon  the 
figure  of  a  man  slowly  making  his  way  over  the 
dunes.  As  he  passed  the  old  House  of  Refuge,  some 
hundreds  of  yards  below,  he  stopped  for  a  moment 
as  if  undecided  on  his  course,  looked  ahead  again  at 
the  larger  house  of  the  Station,  and  then,  as  if  re 
assured,  came  stumbling  on,  his  gait  showing  his 
want  of  experience  in  avoiding  the  holes  and  tufts 
of  grass  cresting  the  dunes.  His  movements  were 
so  awkward  and  his  walk  so  unusual  in  that  neighbor 
hood  that  Tod  stepped  out  on  the  low  porch  of  the 
Station  to  get  a  better  view  of  him. 

From  the  man's  dress,  and  from  his  manner  of 
looking  about  him,  as  if  feeling  his  way,  Tod  con 
cluded  that  he  was  a  stranger  and  had  tramped  the 
beach  for  the  first  time.  At  the  sight  of  the  surfman 
the  man  left  the  dune,  struck  the  boat  path,  and 
walked  straight  toward  the  porch. 

"  Kind  o'  foggy,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tod,  scrutinizing  the  man's  face 
and  figure,  particularly  his  clothes,  which  were 
queerly  cut  and  with  a  foreign  air  about  them.  He 
saw,  too,  that  he  was  strong  and  well  built,  and  not 
over  thirty  years  of  age. 

"  You  work  here  ?  "  continued  the  stranger,  mount 
ing  the  steps  and  coming  closer,  his  eyes  taking  in 

329 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

Tod,   the  porch,   and  the  view  of  the  sitting-room 
through  the  open  window. 

"I  do,"  answered  Tod  in  the  same  tone,  his  eyes 
still  on  the  man's  face. 

"  Good  job,  is  it  ? "  he  asked,  unbuttoning  his 
coat. 

"  I  get  enough  to  eat,"  answered  Tod  curtly,  "  and 
enough  to  do."  He  had  resumed  his  position  against 
the  jamb  of  the  door  and  stood  perfectly  impassive, 
without  offering  any  courtesy  of  any  kind.  Strangers 
who  asked  questions  were  never  very  welcome.  Then, 
again,  the  inquiry  about  his  private  life  nettled 
him. 

The  man,  without  noticing  the  slight  rebuff,  looked 
about  for  a  seat,  settled  down  on  the  top  step  of  the 
porch,  pulled  his  cap  from  his  head,  and  wiped  the 
sweat  from  his  forehead  with  the  back  of  one  hand. 
Then  he  said  slowly,  as  if  to  himself: 

"  I  took  the  wrong  road  and  got  consid'able  het 
up." 

Tod  watched  him  while  he  mopped  his  head  with  a 
red  cotton  handkerchief,  but  made  no  reply.  Curi 
osity  is  not  the  leading  characteristic  of  men  who 
follow  the  sea. 

"  Is  the  head  man  around  ?  His  name's  Holt, 
ain't  it  ? "  continued  the  stranger,  replacing  his  cap 
and  stuffing  his  handkerchief  into  the  side-pocket  of 
his  coat. 

330 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

As  the  words  fell  from  his  lips  Tod's  quick  eye 
caught  a  sudden  gleam  like  that  of  a  search-light 
flashed  from  beneath  the  heavy  eyebrows  of  the 
speaker. 

"  That's  his  name/'  answered  Tod.  "  Want  to 
see  him?  He's  inside."  The  surfman  had  not  yet 
changed  his  position  nor  moved  a  muscle  of  his  body. 
Tiger  cats  are  often  like  this. 

Captain  Holt's  burly  form  stepped  from  the  door. 
He  had  overheard  the  conversation,  and  not  recog 
nizing  the  voice  had  come  to  find  out  what  the  man 
wanted. 

"  You  lookin'  for  me  ?  I'm  Captain  Holt.  What 
kin  I  do  for  ye  ? "  asked  the  captain  in  his  quick, 
imperious  way. 

"  That's  what  he  said,  sir,"  rejoined  Tod,  bringing 
himself  to  an  erect  position  in  deference  to  his  chief. 

The  stranger  rose  from  his  seat  and  took  his  cap 
from  his  head. 

"  I'm  out  o'  work,  sir,  and  want  a  job,  and  I 
thought  you  might  take  me  on." 

Tod  was  now  convinced  that  the  stranger  was  a 
foreigner.  ~No  man  of  Tod's  class  ever  took  his  hat 
off  to  his  superior  officer.  They  had  other  ways  of 
showing  their  respect  for  his  authority — instant  obe 
dience,  before  and  behind  his  back,  for  instance. 

The  captain's  eyes  absorbed  the  man  from  his 
thick  shoes  to  his  perspiring  hair. 

331 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARKEGAT 

"  Norwegian,  ain't  ye  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  Swede." 

"  Not  much  difference.  When  did  ye  leave 
Sweden?  You  talk  purty  good." 

"  When  I  was  a  boy." 

"What  kin  ye  do?" 

"  I'm  a  good  derrick  man  and  been  four  years  with 
a  coaler." 

"  You  want  steady  'work,  I  suppose." 

The  stranger  nodded. 

"  Well,  I  ain't  got  it.  Gov'ment  app'ints  our  men. 
This  is  a  Life-Saving  Station." 

The  stranger  stood  twisting  his  cap.  The  first 
statement  seemed  to  make  but  little  impression  on 
him;  the  second  aroused  a  keener  interest. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Just  new  built,  ain't  it  ?  and  you 
just  put  in  charge  ?  Captain  Nathaniel  Holt's  your 
name  —  am  I  right  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you're  just  right."  And  the  captain,  dis 
missing  the  man  and  the  incident  from  his  mind, 
turned  on  his  heel,  walked  the  length  of  the 
narrow  porch  and  stood  scanning  the  sky  and  the 
blurred  horizon  line.  The  twilight  was  now  deepen 
ing  and  a  red  glow  shimmered  through  the  settling 


"  Fogarty  !  "  cried  the  captain,  beckoning  over  his 
shoulder  with  his  head. 

Tod  stepped  up  and  stood  at  attention;  as  quick 
332 


THE    SWEDE'S    STORY 

in  reply  as  if  two  steel  springs  were  fastened  to  his 
heels. 

"  Looks  rather  soapy,  Eogarty.  May  come  on 
thick.  Better  take  a  turn  to  the  inlet  and  see  if  that 
yawl  is  in  order.  We  might  have  to  cross  it  to-night. 
We  can't  count  on  this  weather.  When  you  meet 
Green  send  him  back  here.  That  shot-line  wants 
overhaulin'."  Here  the  captain  hesitated  and  looked 
intently  at  the  stranger.  "  And  here,  you  Swede/7 
he  called  in  a  louder  tone  of  command,  "  you  go 
'long  and  lend  a  hand,  and  when  you  come  back  I'll 
have  some  supper  for  ye." 

One  of  Tod's  springs  must  have  slid  under  the 
Swede's  shoes.  Either  the  prospect  of  a  meal  or  of 
having  a  companion  to  whom  he  could  lend  a  hand — 
nothing  so  desolate  as  a  man  out  of  work — a  stranger 
at  that — had  put  new  life  into  his  hitherto  lethargic 
body. 

"  This  wray,"  said  Tod,  striding  out  toward  the 
surf. 

The  Swede  hurried  to  his  side  and  the  two  crossed 
the  boat  runway,  ploughed  through  the  soft  drift  of 
the  dune,  and  striking  the  hard,  wet  sand  of  the 
beach,  headed  for  the  inlet.  Tod  having  his  high, 
waterproof  boots  on,  tramped  along  the  edge  of  the 
incoming  surf,  the  half -circles  of  suds  swashing  past 
his  feet  and  spreading  themselves  up  the  slope.  The 
sand  was  wet  here  and  harder  on  that  account,  and 

333 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

the  walking  better.  The  Swede  took  the  inside  course 
nearer  the  shore.  Soon  Tod  began  to  realize  that 
the  interest  the  captain  had  shown  in  the  unknown 
man  and  the  brief  order  admitting  him  for  a  time 
to  membership  in  the  crew  placed  the  stranger  on  a 
different  footing.  He  was,  so  to  speak,  a  comrade 
and,  therefore,  entitled  to  a  little  more  courtesy. 
This  clear  in  his  mind,  he  allowed  his  tongue  more 
freedom;  not  that  he  had  any  additional  interest  in 
the  man — he  only  meant  to  be  polite. 

"  What  you  been  workin'  at  ?  "  he  asked,  kicking 
an  empty  tin  can  that  the  tide  had  rolled  within  his 
reach.  Work  is  the  universal  topic;  the  weather  is 
too  serious  a  subject  to  chatter  about  lightly. 

"  Last  year  or  two  ?  "  asked  the  Swede,  quickening 
his  pace  to  keep  up.  Tod's  steel  springs  always  kept 
their  original  temper  while  the  captain's  orders  were 
being  executed  and  never  lost  their  buoyancy  until 
these  orders  were  entirely  carried  out. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tod. 

"  Been  a-minin' ;  runnin'  the  ore  derricks  and  the 
shaft  h'isters.  What  you  been  doin'  ? "  And  the 
man  glanced  at  Tod  from  under  his  cap. 

"  Fishin'.  See  them  poles  out  there  ?  You  kin 
just  git  sight  o'  them  in  the  smoke.  Them's  my 
father's.  He's  out  there  now,  I  guess,  if  he  ain't 


come  in." 


You  live  'round  here  ?  "     The  man's  legs  were 
334 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

shorter  than  Tod's,  and  he  was  taking  two  steps  to 
Tod's  one. 

"  Yes,  you  passed  the  House  o?  Refuge,  didn't 
ye,  comin'  up  ?  I  was  watchin'  ye.  Well,  you  saw 
that  cabin  with  the  fence  'round  it  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  woman  told  me  where  I'd  find  the 
cap'n.  You  know  her,  I  s'pose  ?  "  asked  the  Swede. 

"  Yes,  she's  my  mother,  and  that's  my  home.  I 
was  born  there."  Tod's  words  were  addressed  to  the 
perspective  of  the  beach  and  to  the  way  the  haze 
blurred  the  horizon;  surf  men  rarely  see  anything 
else  when  walking  on  the  beach,  whether  on  or  off 
duty. 

"  You  know  everybody  'round  here,  don't  you  ?  " 
remarked  the  Swede  in  a  casual  tone.  The  same 
quick,  inquiring  glance  shot  out  of  the  man's 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  guess  so,"  answered  Tod  with  another  kick. 
Here  the  remains  of  an  old  straw  hat  shared  the  fate 
of  the  can. 

"  You  ever  heard  tell  of  a  woman  named  Lucy 
Cobden,  lives  'round  here  somewheres  ?  " 

Tod  came  to  a  halt  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  run 
into  a  derelict. 

"  I  don't  know  no  woman/'  he  answered  slowly, 
accentuating  the  last  word.  "  I  know  a  lady  named 
Miss  Jane  Cobden.  Why  ?  "  and  he  scrutinized  the 
man's  face. 

335 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

"  One  I  mean's  got  a  child — big  now — must  be 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  old — girl,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  "No,  it's  a  boy.  He's  one  of  the  crew  here ;  his 
name's  Archie  Cobden.  Me  and  him's  been  brothers 
since  we  was  babies.  What  do  you  know  about  him  ?  " 
Tod  had  resumed  his  walk,  but  at  a  slower  pace. 

"  Nothin' ;  that's  why  I  ask."  The  man  had  also 
become  interested  in  the  flotsam  of  the  beach,  and 
had  stopped  to  pick  up  a  clam-shell  which  he  shied 
into  the  surf.  Then  he  added  slowly,  and  as  if  not 
to  make  a  point  of  the  inquiry,  "  Is  she  alive  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Here  this  week.  Lives  up  in  Warehold 
in  that  big  house  with  the  brick  gate-posts." 

The  man  walked  on  for  some  time  in  silence  and 
then  asked: 

"  You're  sure  the  child  is  livin'  and  that  the 
mother's  name  is  Jane  ?  " 

"  Sure  ?  Don't  I  tell  ye  Cobden's  in  the  crew  and 
Miss  Jane  was  here  this  week!  He's  up  the  beach 
on  patrol  or  you'd  'a'  seen  him  when  you  fust  struck 
the  Station." 

The  stranger  quickened  his  steps.  The  informa 
tion  seemed  to  have  put  new  life  into  him  again. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  man  named  Bart  Holt," 
he  asked,  "  who  used  to  be  'round  here  ?  "  Neither 
man  was  looking  at  the  other  as  they  talked.  The 
conversation  was  merely  to  pass  the  time  of  day. 

"  Yes ;  he's  the  captain's  son.  Been  dead  for  years. 
336 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

Died  some'er's  out  in  Brazil,  so  I've  heard  my  father 
say.     Had  fever  or  something." 

The  Swede  walked  on  in  silence  for  some  minutes. 
Then  he  stopped,  faced  Tod,  took  hold  of  the  lapel 
of  his  coat,  and  said  slowly,  as  he  peered  into  his 
eyes: 

"  He  ain't  dead,  no  more'n  you  and  I  be.  I  worked 
for  him  for  two  years.  He  run  the  mines  on  a  per 
centage.  I  got  here  last  week,  and  he  sent  me  down 
to  find  out  how  the  land  lay.  If  the  woman  was 
dead  I  was  to  say  nothing  and  come  back.  If  she 
was  alive  I  wras  to  tell  the  captain,  his  father,  where 
a  letter  could  reach  him.  They  had  some  bad  blood 
'twixt  ?em,  but  he  didn't  tell  me  what  it  was  about. 
He  may  come  home  here  to  live,  or  he  may  go  back 
to  the  mines;  it's  just  how  the  old  man  takes  it. 
That's  what  I've  got  to  say  to  him.  How  do  you 
think  he'll  take  it  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Tod  made  no  reply.  He  was  try 
ing  to  make  up  his  mind  what  part  of  the  story  was 
true  and  what  part  was  skilfully  put  together  to  pro 
vide,  perhaps,  additional  suppers.  The  improba 
bility  of  the  whole  affair  struck  him  with  unusual 
force.  Raising  hopes  of  a  long-lost  son  in  the  breast 
of  a  father  was  an  old  dodge  and  often  meant  the 
raising  of  money. 

"  Well,  I  can't  say,"  Tod  answered  carelessly ;  he 
had  his  own  opinion  now  of  the  stranger.  "  You'll 

337 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAENEGAT 

have  to  see  the  captain  about  that.  If  the  man's 
alive  it's  rather  funny  he  ain't  showed  up  all  these 
years." 

"  Well,  keep  mum  'bout  it,  will  ye,  till  I  talk  to 
him  ?  Here  comes  one  o'  your  men." 

Green's  figure  now  loomed  up  out  of  the  mist. 

:'  Where  away,  Tod  ?  "  the  approaching  surfman 
cried  when  he  joined  the  two. 

"  Captain  wants  me  to  look  after  the  yawl,"  an 
swered  Tod. 

"  It's  all  right,"  cried  Green ;  "  I  just  left  it.  Went 
down  a-purpose.  Who's  yer  friend  ?  " 

"  A  man  the  cap'n  sent  along  to  lend  a  hand.  This 
is  Sam  Green,"  and  he  turned  to  the  Swede  and 
nodded  to  his  brother  surfman. 

The  two  shook  hands.  The  stranger  had  not  vol 
unteered  his  name  and  Tod  had  not  asked  for  it. 
Barnes  go  for  little  among  men  who  obey  orders; 
they  serve  merely  as  labels  and  are  useful  in  a  pay 
roll,  but  they  do  not  add  to  the  value  of  the  owner 
or  help  his  standing  in  any  way.  "  Shorty "  or 
"  Fatty  "  or  "  Big  Mike  "  is  all  sufficient.  What  the 
man  can  do  and  how  he  does  it,  is  more  important. 
..  "  No  use  goin'  to  the  inlet,"  continued  Green. 
"  I'll  report  to  the  captain.  Come  along  back.  I 
tell  ye  it's  gettin'  thick,"  and  he  looked  out  across 
the  breakers,  only  the  froth  line  showing  in  the  dim 
twilight. 

338 


THE    SWEDE'S    STORY 

The  three  turned  and  retraced  their  steps. 

Tod  quickened  his  pace  and  stepped  into  the  house 
ahead  of  the  others.  Not  only  did  he  intend  to  tell 
the  captain  of  what  he  had  heard,  but  he  intended  to 
tell  him  at  once. 

Captain  Holt  was  in  his  private  room,  sitting  at 
his  desk,  busy  over  his  monthly  report.  A  swinging 
kerosene  lamp  hanging  from  the  ceiling  threw  a  light 
full  on  his  ruddy  face  framed  in  a  fringe  of  gray 
whiskers.  Tod  stepped  in  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  I  didn't  go  to  the  inlet,  sir.  Green  had  thought 
of  the  yawl  and  had  looked  after  it;  he'll  report  to 
you  about  it.  I  just  heard  a  strange  yarn  from  that 
fellow  you  sent  with  me  and  I  want  to  tell  ye  what 
it  is." 

The  captain  laid  down  his  pen,  pushed  his  glasses 
from  his  eyes,  and  looked  squarely  into  Tod's  face. 

"  He's  been  askin'  'bout  Miss  Jane  Cobden  and 
Archie,  and  says  your  son  Bart  is  alive  and  sent  him 
down  here  to  find  out  how  the  land  lay.  It's  a  cock- 
and-bull  story,  but  I  give  it  to  you  just  as  I  got  it." 

Once  in  the  South  Seas  the  captain  awoke  to  look 
into  the  muzzle  of  a  double-barrelled  shot-gun  held 
in  the  hand  of  the  leader  of  a  mutiny.  The  next 
instant  the  man  was  on  the  floor,  the  captain's  fingers 
twisted  in  his  throat. 

Tod's  eyes  were  now  the  barrels  of  that  gun.  !N"o 
339 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

cat-like  spring  followed;  only  a  cold,  stony  stare, 
as  if  he  were  awaking  from  a  concussion  that  had 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  him. 

"He  says  Bart's  alive!"  he  gasped.  "Who? 
That  feller  I  sent  with  ye  ? " 

"  Yes." 

The  captain's  face  grew  livid  and  then  flamed  up, 
every  vein  standing  clear,  his  eyes  blazing. 

"  He's  a  liar !  A  dirty  liar !  Bring  him  in !  " 
Each  word  hissed  from  his  lips  like  an  explosive. 

Tod  opened  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  and  the 
Swede  stepped  in.  The  captain  whirled  his  chair 
suddenly  and  faced  him.  Anger,  doubt,  and  the 
flicker  of  a  faint  hope  were  crossing  his  face  with 
the  movement  of  heat  lightning. 

"  You  know  my  son,  you  say  ? " 

"  I  do."  The  answer  was  direct  and  the  tone 
positive. 

"  What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Barton  Holt.  He  signs  it  different,  but  that's 
his  name." 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  "  The  pitch  of  the  captain's 
voice  had  altered.  He  intended  to  riddle  the  man's 
statement  with  a  cross-fire  of  examination. 

"  'Bout  forty,  maybe  forty-five.  He  never  told 
me." 

"What  kind  of  eyes?" 

"  Brown,  like  yours." 

340 


"You  know  my  son,  you  say?" 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOEY 

"What  kind  of  hair?" 

"  Curly.  It's  gray  now ;  he  had  fever,  and  it 
turned." 

"  Where — when  ?  "  Hope  and  fear  were  now 
struggling  for  the  mastery. 

"  Two  years  ago — when  I  first  knew  him ;  we  were 
in  hospital  together." 

"  What's  he  been  doin'  ?  "  The  tone  was  softer. 
Hope  seemed  to  be  stronger  now. 

"  Mining  out  in  Brazil." 

The  captain  took  his  eyes  from  the  face  of  the 
man  and  asked  in  something  of  his  natural  tone  of 
voice : 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

The  Swede  put  his  hand  in  his  inside  pocket  and 
took  out  a  small  time-book  tied  around  with  a  piece 
of  faded  tape.  This  he  slowly  unwound,  Tod's  and 
the  captain's  eyes  following  every  turn  of  his  fingers. 
Opening  the  book,  he  glanced  over  the  leaves,  found 
the  one  he  was  looking  for,  tore  it  carefully  from  the 
book,  and  handed  it  to  the  captain. 

'  That's  his  writing.  If  you  want  to  see  him  send 
him  a  line  to  that  address.  It'll  reach  him  all  right. 
If  you  don't  want  to  see  him  he'll  go  back  with  me  to 
Rio.  I  don't  want  yer  supper  and  I  don't  want  yer 
job.  I  done  what  I  promised  and  that's  all  there  is 
to  it.  Good-night,"  and  he  opened  the  door  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  darkness. 

341 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

Captain  Holt  sat  with  his  head  on  his  chest  look 
ing  at  the  floor  in  front  of  him.  The  light  of  the 
hanging  lamp  made  dark  shadows  under  his  eye 
brows  and  under  his  chin  whiskers.  There  was  a 
firm  set  to  his  clean-shaven  lips,  but  the  eyes  burned 
with  a  gentle  light;  a  certain  hope,  positive  now, 
seemed  to  be  looming  up  in  them. 

Tod  watched  him  for  an  instant,  and  said : 

"  What  do  ye  think  of  it,  cap'n  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  made  up  my  mind." 

"  Is  he  lyin'  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Seems  too  good  to  be  true.  He's 
got  some  things  right;  some  things  he  ain't.  Keep 
your  mouth  shut  till  I  tell  ye  to  open  it — to  Cobden, 
mind  ye,  and  everybody  else.  Better  help  Green 
overhaul  that  line.  That'll  do,  Fogarty." 

Tod  dipped  his  head — his  sign  of  courteous  as 
sent — and  backed  out  of  the  room.  The  captain  con 
tinued  motionless,  his  eyes  fixed  on  space.  Once  he 
turned,  picked  up  the  paper,  scrutinized  the  hand 
writing  word  for  word,  and  tossed  it  back  on  the 
desk.  Then  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  began  pacing 
the  floor,  stopping  to  gaze  at  a  chart  on  the  wall,  at 
the  top  of  the  stove,  at  the  pendulum  of  the  clock, 
surveying  them  leisurely.  Once  he  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  flare  of  light  from  his  swinging  lamp, 
stencilled  on  the  white  sand  and  the  gray  line  of  the 
dunes  beyond.  At  each  of  these  resting-places  his 

342 


THE    SWEDE'S    STOKY 

face  assumed  a  different  expression;  hope,  fear,  and 
anger  again  swept  across  it  as  his  judgment  strug 
gled  with  his  heart.  In  one  of  his  turns  up  and  down 
the  small  room  he  laid  his  hand  on  a  brick  lying  on 
the  window-sill — one  that  had  been  sent  by  the  build 
ers  of  the  Station  as  a  sample.  This  he  turned  over 
carefully,  examining  the  edges  and  color  as  if  he  had 
seen  it  for  the  first  time  and  had  to  pass  judgment 
upon  its  defects  or  merits.  Laying  it  back  in  its 
place,  he  threw  himself  into  his  chair  again,  ex 
claiming  aloud,  as  if  talking  to  someone: 

"  It  ain't  true.  He'd  wrote  before  if  he  were 
alive.  He  was  wild  and  keerless,  but  he  never  was 
dirt-mean,  and  he  wouldn't  a-treated  me  so  all  these 
years.  The  Swede's  a  liar,  I  tell  ye !  " 

Wheeling  the  chair  around  to  face  the  desk,  he 
picked  up  a  pen,  dipped  it  into  the  ink,  laid  it  back 
on  the  desk,  picked  it  up  again,  opened  a  drawer  on 
his  right,  took  from  it  a  sheet  of  official  paper,  and 
wrote  a  letter  of  five  lines.  This  he  enclosed  in  the 
envelope,  directed  to  the  name  on  the  slip  of  paper. 
Then  he  opened  the  door. 

"Fogarty." 

"  Yes,  cap'n." 

"  Take  this  to  the  village  and  drop  it  in  the  post 
yourself.  The  weather's  clearing  and  you  won't  be 
wanted  for  a  while,"  and  he  strode  out  and  joined 
his  men. 

343 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWIC 

September  weather  on  Barnegat  beach !  Fine 
gowns  and  fine  hats  on  the  wide  piazzas  of  Beach 
Haven!  Too  cool  for  bathing,  but  not  too  cool  to 
sit  on  the  sand  and  throw  pebbles  and  loll  under 
kindly  umbrellas ;  air  fresh  and  bracing,  with  a  touch 
of  June  in  it;  skies  full  of  mares'-tails — slips  of  a 
painter's  brush  dragged  flat  across  the  film  of  blue; 
sea  gone  to  rest ;  not  a  ripple,  no  long  break  of  the 
surf,  only  a  gentle  lift  and  fall  like  the  breathing 
of  a  sleeping  child. 

Uncle  Isaac  shook  his  head  when  he  swept  his 
eye  round  at  all  this  loveliness;  then  he  turned  on 
his  heel  and  took  a  look  at  the  aneroid  fastened  to 
the  wall  of  the  sitting-room  of  the  Life-Saving  Sta 
tion.  The  arrow  showed  a  steady  shrinkage.  The 
barometer  had  fallen  six  points. 

"What  do  ye  think,  Captain  Holt?"  asked  the 
old  surfman. 

"  I  ain't  thinking  Polhemus ;  can't  tell  nothin' 
'bout  the  weather  this  month  till  the  moon  changes; 
may  go  on  this  way  for  a  week  or  two,  or  it  may  let 

344 


THE   BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

loose  and  come  out  to  the  sou'-east.  I've  seen  these 
dog-days  last  till  October." 

Again  Uncle  Isaac  shook  his  head,  and  this  time 
kept  his  peace;  now  that  his  superior  officer  had 
spoken  he  had  no  further  opinion  to  express. 

Sam  Green  dropped  his  feet  to  the  floor,  swung 
himself  over  to  the  barometer,  gazed  at  it  for  a 
moment,  passed  out  of  the  door,  swept  his  eye  around, 
and  resumed  his  seat — tilted  back  against  the  wall. 
What  his  opinion  might  be  was  not  for  publication — 
not  in  the  captain's  hearing. 

Captain  Holt  now  consulted  the  glass,  picked  up 
his  cap  bearing  the  insignia  of  his  rank,  and  went 
out  through  the  kitchen  to  the  land  side  of  the  house. 
The  sky  and  sea — feathery  clouds  and  still,  oily  flat 
ness — did  not  interest  him  this  September  morning. 
It  was  the  rolling  dune  that  caught  his  eye,  and  the 
straggly  path  that  threaded  its  way  along  the  marshes 
and  around  and  beyond  the  clump  of  scrub  pines 
and  bushes  until  it  was  lost  in  the  haze  that  hid  the 
village.  This  land  inspection  had  been  going  on  for 
a  month,  and  always  when  Tod  was  returning  from 
the  post-office  with  the  morning  mail.  The  men  had 
noticed  it,  but  no  one  had  given  vent  to  his  thoughts. 

Tod,  of  course,  knew  the  cause  of  the  captain's 
impatience,  but  no  one  of  the  others  did,  not  even 
Archie;  time  enough  for  that  when  the  Swede's 
story  was  proved  true.  If  the  fellow  had  lied  that 

345 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

was  an  end  to  it ;  if  he  had  told  the  truth  Bart  would 
answer,  and  the  mystery  be  cleared  up.  This  same 
silence  had  been  maintained  toward  Jane  and  the 
doctor;  better  not  raise  hopes  he  could  not  verify — 
certainly  not  in  Jane's  breast. 

Not  that  he  had  much  hope  himself;  he  dared 
not  hope.  Hope  meant  a  prop  to  his  old  age;  hope 
meant  joy  to  Jane,  who  would  welcome  the  prodigal; 
hope  meant  relief  to  the  doctor,  who  could  then 
claim  his  own;  hope  meant  redemption  for  Lucy,  a 
clean  name  for  Archie,  and  honor  to  himself  and 
his  only  son. 

~No  wonder,  then,  that  he  watched  for  an  answer 
to  his  letter  with  feverish  impatience.  His  own  mis 
sive  had  been  blunt  and  to  the  point,  asking  the  direct 
question :  "  Are  you  alive  or  dead,  and  if  alive,  why 
did  you  fool  me  with  that  lie  about  your  dying  of 
fever  in  a  hospital  and  keep  me  waiting  all  these 
years  ?  "  Anything  more  would  have  been  super 
fluous  in  the  captain's  judgment — certainly  until  he 
received  some  more  definite  information  as  to 
whether  the  man  was  his  son. 

Half  a  dozen  times  this  lovely  September  morning 
the  captain  had  strolled  leisurely  out  of  the  back  door 
and  had  mounted  the  low  hillock  for  a  better  view. 
Suddenly  a  light  flashed  in  his  face,  followed  by  a 
look  in  his  eyes  that  they  had  not  known  for  weeks — 
not  since  the  Swede  left.  The  light  came  when  his 

346 


THE    BKEAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

glance  fell  upon  Tod's  lithe  figure  swinging  along 
the  road;  the  look  kindled  when  he  saw  Tod  stop 
and  wave  his  hand  triumphantly  over  his  head. 

The  letter  had  arrived ! 

With  a  movement  as  quick  as  that  of  a  horse 
touched  by  a  whip,  he  started  across  the  sand  to  meet 
the  surfman. 

"  Guess  we  got  it  all  right  this  time,  captain/' 
cried  Tod.  "It's  got  the  Nassau  postmark,  any 
how.  There  warn't  nothin'  else  in  the  box  but  the 
newspapers,"  and  he  handed  the  package  to  his  chief. 

The  two  walked  to  the  house  and  entered  the  cap 
tain's  office.  Tod  hung  back,  but  the  captain  laid 
his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Come  in  with  me,  Fogarty.  Shut  the  door.  I'll 
send  these  papers  in  to  the  men  soon's  I  open  this." 

Tod  obeyed  mechanically.  There  was  a  tone  in  the 
captain's  voice  that  was  new  to  him.  It  sounded  as 
if  he  were  reluctant  to  be  left  alone  with  the  letter. 

"  Now  hand  me  them  spectacles." 

Tod  reached  over  and  laid  the  glasses  in  his  chief's 
hand.  The  captain  settled  himself  deliberately  in 
his  revolving  chair,  adjusted  his  spectacles,  and 
slit  the  envelope  with  his  thumb-nail.  Out  came  a 
sheet  of  foolscap  closely  written  on  both  sides.  This 
he  read  to  the  end,  turning  the  page  as  carefully  as 
if  it  had  been  a  set  of  official  instructions,  his  face 
growing  paler  and  paler,  his  mouth  tight  shut.  Tod 

347 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

stood  beside  him  watching  the  lights   and  shadows 
playing  across  his  face.     The  letter  was  as  follows: 

"  NASSAU,  No.  4  Calle  Valenzuela, 

"  Aug.  29,  18 . 

"  FATHER  :  Your  letter  was  not  what  I  expected, 
although  it  is,  perhaps,  all  I  deserve.  I  am  not  going 
into  that  part  of  it,  now  I  know  that  Lucy  and  my 
child  are  alive.  What  has  been  done  in  the  past  I 
can't  undo,  and  maybe  I  wouldn't  if  I  could,  for  if 
I  am  worth  anything  to-day  it  comes  from  what  I 
have  suffered;  that's  over  now,  and  I  won't  rake  it 
up,  but  I  think  you  would  have  written  me  some 
word  of  kindness  if  you  had  known  what  I  have 
gone  through  since  I  left  you.  I  don't  blame  you  for 
what  you  did — I  don't  blame  anybody;  all  I  want 
now  is  to  get  back  home  among  the  people  who  knew 
me  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  try  and  make  up  for  the 
misery  I  have  caused  you  and  the  Cobdens.  I  would 
have  done  this  before,  but  it  has  only  been  for  the 
last  two  years  that  I  have  had  any  money.  I  have 
got  an  interest  in  the  mine  now  and  am  considerably 
ahead,  and  I  can  do  what  I  have  always  determined 
to  do  if  I  ever  had  the  chance  and  means — come  home 
to  Lucy  and  the  child ;  it  must  be  big  now — and  take 
them  back  with  me  to  Bolivia,  where  I  have  a  good 
home  and  where,  in  a  few  years,  I  shall  be  able  to 
give  them  everything  they  need.  That's  due  to  her 
and  to  the  child,  and  it's  due  to  you;  and  if  she'll 
come  I'll  do  my  best  to  make  her  happy  while  she 
lives.  I  heard  about  five  years  ago  from  a  man  who 
worked  for  a  short  time  in  Farguson's  ship-yard  how 

348 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

she  was  suffering,  and  what  names  the  people  called 
the  child,  and  my  one  thought  ever  since  has  been  to 
do  the  decent  thing  by  both.  I  couldn't  then,  for  I 
was  living  in  a  hut  back  in  the  mountains  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  coast,  or  tramping  from  place  to 
place ;  so  I  kept  still.  He  told  me,  too,  how  you  felt 
toward  me,  and  I  didn't  want  to  come  and  have  bad 
blood  between  us,  and  so  I  stayed  on.  When  Olssen 
Strom,  my  foreman,  sailed  for  Perth  Amboy,  where 
they  are  making  some  machinery  for  the  company,  I 
thought  I'd  try  again,  so  I  sent  him  to  find  out.  One 
thing  in  your  letter  is  wrong.  I  never  went  to  the 
hospital  with  yellow  fever;  some  of  the  men  had  it 
aboard  ship,  and  I  took  one  of  them  to  the  ward  the 
night  I  ran  away.  The  doctor  at  the  hospital  wanted 
my  name,  and  I  gave  it,  and  this  may  have  been 
how  they  thought  it  was  me,  but  I  did  not  intend  to 
deceive  you  or  anybody  else,  nor  cover  up  any  tracks. 
Yes,  father,  I'm  coming  home.  If  you'll  hold  out 
your  hand  to  me  I'll  take  it  gladly.  I've  had  a  hard 
time  since  I  left  you ;  you'd  forgive  me  if  you  knew 
how  hard  it  has  been.  I  haven't  had  anybody  out 
here  to  care  whether  I  lived  or  died,  and  I  would 
like  to  see  how  it  feels.  But  if  you  don't  I  can't  help 
it.  My  hope  is  that  Lucy  and  the  boy  will  feel 
differently.  There  is  a  steamer  sailing  from  here 
next  Wednesday ;  she  goes  direct  to  Amboy,  and  you 
may  expect  me  on  her.  Your  son, 

"  BAKTON/' 

"  It's  him,  Tod,"  cried  the  captain,  shaking  the 
letter  over  his  head ;  "  it's  him !  "     The  tears  stood 

349 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

in  his  eyes  now,  his  voice  trembled;  his  iron  nerve 
was  giving  way.  "  Alive,  and  comin'  home !  Be 
here  next  week !  Keep  the  door  shut,  boy,  till  I  pull 
myself  together.  Oh,  my  God,  Tod,  think  of  it !  I 
haven't  had  a  day's  peace  since  I  druv  him  out  nigh 
on  to  twenty  year  ago.  He  hurt  me  here  " — and 
he  pointed  to  his  breast — "  where  I  couldn't  forgive 
him.  But  it's  all  over  now.  He's  come  to  himself 
like  a  man,  and  he's  square  and  honest,  and  he's  goin' 
to  stay  home  till  everything  is  straightened  out.  O 
God !  it  can't  be  true !  it  cant  be  true !  " 

He  was  sobbing  now,  his  face  hidden  by  his  wrist 
and  the  cuff  of  his  coat,  the  big  tears  striking  his  pea- 
jacket  and  bounding  off.  It  had  been  many  years 
since  these  springs  had  yielded  a  drop — not  when 
anybody  could  see.  They  must  have  scalded  his 
rugged  cheeks  as  molten  metal  scalds  a  sand-pit. 

Tod  stood  amazed.  The  outburst  was  a  revelation. 
He  had  known  the  captain  ever  since  he  could  remem 
ber,  but  always  as  an  austere,  exacting  man. 

"  I'm  glad,  captain,"  Tod  said  simply ;  "  the 
men'll  be  glad,  too.  Shall  I  tell  'em  \  " 

The  captain  raised  his  head. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  son."  His  heart  was  very  ten 
der,  all  discipline  was  forgotten  now;  and  then  he 
had  known  Tod  from  his  boyhood.  "  I'll  go  myself 
and  tell  'em,"  and  he  drew  his  hand  across  his  eyes 
as  if  to  dry  them.  "  Yes,  tell  'em.  Come,  I'll  go 

350 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

'long  with  ye  and  tell  'em  myself.  I  ain't  'shamed 
of  the  way  I  feel,  and  the  men  won't  be  'shamed 
neither." 

The  sitting-room  was  full  when  he  entered.  Din 
ner  had  been  announced  by  Morgan,  who  was  cook 
that  week,  by  shouting  the  glad  tidings  from  his 
place  beside  the  stove,  and  the  men  were  sitting  about 
in  their  chairs.  Two  fishermen  who  had  come  for 
their  papers  occupied  seats  against  the  wall. 

The  captain  walked  to  the  corner  of  the  table, 
stood  behind  his  own  chair  and  rested  the  knuckles 
of  one  hand  on  the  white  oilcloth.  The  look  on  his 
face  attracted  every  eye.  Pausing  for  a  moment,  he 
turned  to  Polhemus  and  spoke  to  him  for  the  others : 

"  Isaac,  I  got  a  letter  just  now.  Fogarty  brought 
it  over.  You  knew  my  boy  Bart,  didn't  ye,  the  one 
that's  been  dead  nigh  on  to  twenty  years  ?  " 

The  old  surfman  nodded,  his  eyes  still  fastened 
on  the  captain.  This  calling  him  "  Isaac  "  was  evi 
dence  that  something  personal  and  unusual  was  com 
ing.  The  men,  too,  leaned  forward  in  attention ;  the 
story  of  Bart's  disappearance  and  death  had  been 
discussed  up  and  down  the  coast  for  years. 

"Well,  he's  alive,"  rejoined  the  captain  with  a 
triumphant  tone  in  his  voice,  "  and  he'll  be  here  in 
a  week — comin'  to  Amboy  on  a  steamer.  There 
ain't  no  mistake  about  it;  here's  his  letter." 

The  announcement  was  received  in  dead  silence. 
351 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

To  be  surprised  was  not  characteristic  of  these  men, 
especially  over  a  matter  of  this  kind.  Death  was  a 
part  of  their  daily  experience,  and  a  resurrection 
neither  extraordinary  nor  uncommon.  They  were 
glad  for  the  captain,  if  the  captain  was  glad — and  he 
evidently  was.  But  what  did  Bart's  turning  up  at  this 
late  day  mean  ?  Had  his  money  given  out,  or  was  he 
figuring  to  get  something  out  of  his  father — some 
thing  he  couldn't  get  as  long  as  he  remained  dead  ? 

The  captain  continued,  his  voice  stronger  and  with 
a  more  positive  ring  in  it: 

"  He's  part  owner  in  a  mine  now,  and  he's  comin' 
home  to  see  me  and  to  straighten  out  some  things 
he's  interested  in."  It  was  the  first  time  in  nearly 
twenty  years  that  he  had  ever  been  able  to  speak  of 
his  son  with  pride. 

A  ripple  of  pleasure  went  through  the  room.  If 
the  prodigal  was  bringing  some  money  with  him  and 
was  not  to  be  a  drag  on  the  captain,  that  put  a  new 
aspect  on  the  situation.  In  that  case  the  father  was 
to  be  congratulated. 

"Well,  that's  a  comfort  to  you,  captain,"  cried 
Uncle  Isaac  in  a  cheery  tone.  "  A  good  son  is  a 
good  thing.  I  never  had  one,  dead  or  alive,  but  I'd 
'a'  loved  him  if  I  had  had.  I'm  glad  for  you,  Cap 
tain  Nat,  and  I  know  the  men  are."  (Polhemus's 
age  and  long  friendship  gave  him  this  privilege. 
Then,  of  course,  the  occasion  was  not  an  official  one.) 

352 


THE    BKEAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

"  Been  at  the  mines,  did  ye  say,  captain  ?  "  re 
marked  Green.  Not  that  it  was  of  any  interest  to 
him;  merely  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  cap 
tain's  confidence.  This  could  best  be  done  by  pro 
longing  the  conversation. 

"  Yes,  up  in  the  mountains  of  Brazil  some'er's,  I 
guess,  though  he  don't  say,"  answered  the  captain  in 
a  tone  that  showed  that  the  subject  was  still  open  for 
discussion. 

Mulligan  now  caught  the  friendly  ball  and  tossed 
it  back  with: 

"  I  knowed  a  feller  once  who  was  in  Brazil — so  he 
said.  Purty  hot  down  there,  ain't  it,  captain  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  on  the  coast.  I  ain't  never  been  back  in 
the  interior." 

Tod  kept  silent.  It  was  not  his  time  to  speak,  nor 
would  it  be  proper  for  him,  nor  necessary.  His  chief 
knew  his  opinion  and  sympathies  and  no  word  of 
his  could  add  to  their  sincerity. 

Archie  was  the  only  man  in  the  room,  except  Uncle 
Isaac,  who  regarded  the  announcement  as  personal 
to  the  captain.  Boys  without  fathers  and  fathers 
without  boys  had  been  topics  which  had  occupied  his 
mind  ever  since  he  could  remember.  That  this  old 
man  had  found  one  of  his  own  whom  he  loved  and 
whom  he  wanted  to  get  his  arms  around,  was  an 
inspiring  thought  to  Archie. 

"  There's  no  one  happier  than  I  am,  captain," 
353 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKTEGAT 

he  burst  out  enthusiastically.  "  I've  often  heard 
of  your  son,  and  of  his  going  away  and  of  your 
giving  him  up  for  dead.  I'm  mighty  glad  for  you," 
and  he  grasped  his  chief's  hand  and  shook  it 
heartily. 

As  the  lad's  fingers  closed  around  the  rough  hand 
of  the  captain  a  furtive  look  flashed  from  out  Mor 
gan's  eyes.  It  was  directed  to  Parks — they  were 
both  Barnegat  men — and  was  answered  by  that  surf- 
man  with  a  slow-falling  wink.  Tod  saw  it,  and  his 
face  flushed.  Certain  stories  connected  with  Archie 
rose  in  his  mind;  some  out  of  his  childhood,  others 
since  he  had  joined  the  crew. 

The  captain's  eyes  filled  as  he  shook  the  boy's 
hand,  but  he  made  no  reply  to  Archie's  outburst. 
Pausing  for  a  moment,  as  if  willing  to  listen  to  any 
further  comments,  and  finding  that  no  one  else  had 
any  word  for  him,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  re- 
entered  his  office. 

Once  inside,  he  strode  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  on  the  dunes,  his  big  hands  hooked  behind  his 
back,  his  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy. 

"  It  won't  be  long,  now,  Archie,  not  long,  my 
lad,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  speaking  aloud  to  him 
self.  "  I  kin  say  you're  my  grandson  out  loud  when 
Bart  comes,  and  nothin'  kin  or  will  stop  mel  And 
now  I  kin  tell  Miss  Jane." 

Thrusting  the  letter  into  his  inside  pocket,  he 
354 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

picked  up  his  cap,  and  strode  across  the  dune  in  the 
direction  of  the  new  hospital. 

Jane  was  in  one  of  the  wards  when  the  captain 
sent  word  to  her  to  come  to  the  visiting-room.  She 
had  been  helping  the  doctor  in  an  important  opera 
tion.  The  building  was  but  half  way  between  the 
Station  and  Warehold,  which  made  it  easier  for  the 
captain  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  sea  should  there  be  any 
change  in  the  weather. 

Jane  listened  to  the  captain's  outburst  covering 
the  announcement  that  Bart  was  alive  without  a 
comment.  Her  face  paled  and  her  breathing  came 
short,  but  she  showed  no  signs  of  either  joy  or  sorrow. 
She  had  faced  too  many  surprises  in  her  life  to  be 
startled  at  anything.  Then  again,  Bart  alive  or  dead 
could  make  no  difference  now  in  either  her  own  or 
Lucy's  future. 

The  captain  continued,  his  face  brightening,  his- 
voice  full  of  hope: 

"  And  your  troubles  are  all  over  now,  Miss  Jane ;, 
your  name  will  be  cleared  up,  and  so  will  Archie's, 
and  the  doctor'll  git  his  own,  and  Lucy  kin  look 
everybody  in  the  face.  See  what  Bart  says,"  and  he 
handed  her  the  open  letter. 

Jane  read  it  word  by  word  to  the  end  and  handed 
it  back  to  the  captain.  Once  in  the  reading  she 
had  tightened  her  grasp  on  her  chair  as  if  to  steady 
herself,  but  she  did  not  flinch;  she  even  read  some 

355 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

sentences  twice,  so  that  she  might  be  sure  of  their 
meaning. 

In  his  eagerness  the  captain  had  not  caught  the 
expression  of  agony  that  crossed  her  face  as  her 
mind,  grasping  the  purport  of  the  letter,  began  to 
measure  the  misery  that  would  follow  if  Bart's  plan 
was  carried  out. 

"  I  knew  how  ye'd  feel/'  he  went  on,  "  and  IVe 
been  huggin'  myself  ever  since  it  come  when  I 
thought  how  happy  ye'd  be  when  I  told  ye;  but  I 
ain't  so  sure  'bout  Lucy.  What  do  you  think  ?  Will 
she  do  what  Bart  wants  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Jane  in  a  quiet,  restrained  voice ; 
"  she  will  not  do  it." 

"  W"hy  ?  "  said  the  captain  in  a  surprised  tone. 
He  was  not  accustomed  to  be  thwarted  in  anything 
he  had  fixed  his  mind  upon,  and  he  saw  from  Jane's 
expression  that  her  own  was  in  opposition. 

"  Because  I  won't  permit  it." 

The  captain  leaned  forward  and  looked  at  Jane 
in  astonishment. 

"  You  won't  permit  it !  " 

"  No,  I  won't  permit  it." 

"  Why  ?  "  The  word  came  from  the  captain  as  if 
it  had  been  shot  from  a  gun. 

"  Because  it  would  not  be  right."  Her  eyes  were 
still  fixed  on  the  captain's. 

"  Well,  ain't  it  right  that  he  should  make  some 
356 


THE    BREAKING    OF    THE    DAWN 

amends  for  what  he's  done  ?  "  he  retorted  with  in 
creasing  anger.  "  When  he  said  he  wouldn't  marry 
her  I  druv  him  out ;  now  he  says  he's  sorry  and  wants 
to  do  squarely  by  her  and  my  hand's  out  to  him.  She 
ain't  got  nothin'  in  her  life  that's  doin'  her  any  good. 
And  that  boy's  got  to  be  baptized  right  and  take 
his  father's  name,  Archie  Holt,  out  loud,  so  every 
body  kin  hear." 

Jane  made  no  answer  except  to  shake  her  head. 
Her  eyes  were  still  on  the  captain's,  but  her  mind 
was  neither  on  him  nor  on  what  fell  from  his  lips. 
She  was  again  confronting  that  spectre  which  for 
years  had  lain  buried  and  which  the  man  before  her 
was  exorcising  back  to  life. 

The  captain  sprang  from  his  seat  and  stood  before 
her;  the  words  now  poured  from  his  lips  in  a 
torrent. 

"  And  you'll  git  out  from  this  death  blanket  you 
been  sleepin'  under,  bearin'  her  sin;  breakin'  the 
doctor's  heart  and  your  own;  and  Archie  kin  hold 
his  head  up  then  and  say  he's  got  a  father.  You 
ain't  heard  how  the  boys  talk  'bout  him  behind  his 
back.  Tod  Fogarty's  stuck  to  him,  but  who  else 
is  there  'round  here  ?  We  all  make  mistakes ;  that's 
what  half  the  folks  that's  livin'  do.  Everything's 
been  a  lie — nothin'  but  lies — for  near  twenty  years. 
You've  lived  a  lie  mother  in'  this  boy  and  breakin? 
your  heart  over  the  whitest  man  that  ever  stepped  in 

357 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKISTEGAT 

shoe  leather.  Doctor  John's  lived  a  lie,  tellin'  folks 
lie  wanted  to  devote  himself  to  his  hospital  when  he'd 
rather  live  in  the  sound  o'  your  voice  and  die  a 
pauper  than  run  a  college  anywhere  else.  Lucy  has 
lived  a  lie,  and  is  livin'  it  yet — and  likes  it,  too,  that's 
the  worst  of  it.  And  I  been  muzzled  all  these  years ; 
mad  one  minute  and  wantim'  to  twist  his  neck,  and 
the  next  with  my  eyes  runnin'  tears  that  the  only 
boy  I  got  was  lyin'  out  among  strangers.  The  only 
one  that's  honest  is  the  little  Pond  Lily.  She  ain't 
got  nothin'  to  hide  and  you  see  it  in  her  face.  Her 
father  was  square  and  her  mother's  with  her  and 
nothin'  can't  touch  her  and  don't.  Let's  have  this 
out.  I'm  tired  of  it— 

The  captain  was  out  of  breath  now,  his  emotions 
still  controlling  him,  his  astonishment  at  the  unex 
pected  opposition  from  the  woman  of  all  others  on 
whose  assistance  he  most  relied  unabated. 

Jane  rose  from  her  chair  and  stood  facing  him, 
a  great  light  in  her  eyes : 

"No!  NO!  NO!  A  thousand  times,  no!  You 
don't  know  Lucy;  I  do.  What  you  want  done  now 
should  have  been  done  when  Archie  was  born.  It 
wras  my  fault.  I  couldn't  see  her  suffer.  I  loved  her 
too  much.  I  thought  to  save  her,  I  didn't  care  how. 
It  would  have  been  better  for  her  if  she  had  faced 
her  sin  then  and  taken  the  consequences;  better  for 
all  of  us.  I  didn't  think  *so  then,  and  it  has  taken 

358 


THE    BREAKING   OF    THE    DAWN 

me  years  to  find  it  out.  I  began  to  be  conscious  of 
it  first  in  her  marriage,  then  when  she  kept  on  living 
her  lie  with  her  husband,  and  last  when  she  deserted 
Ellen  and  went  off  to  Beach  Haven  alone — that  broke 
my  heart,  and  my  mistake  rose  up  before  me,  and  I 

knew!" 

The  captain  stared  at  her  in  astonishment.  He 
could  hardly  credit  his  ears. 

"  Yes,  better,  if  she'd  faced  it.  She  would  have 
lived  here  then  under  my  care,  and  she  might  have 
loved  her  child  as  I  have  done.  ~Now  she  has  no  tie, 
no  care,  no  responsibility,  no  thought  of  anything 
but  the  pleasures  of  the  moment.  I  have  tried  to 
save  her,  and  I  have  only  helped  to  ruin  her." 

"  Make  her  settle  down,  then,  and  face  the  music !  " 
blurted  out  the  captain,  resuming  his  seat.  "  Bart 
warn't  all  bad ;  he  was  only  young  and  foolish.  He'll 
take  care  of  her.  It  ain't  never  too  late  to  begin  to 
turn  honest.  Bart  wants  to  begin ;  make  her  begin, 
too.  He's  got  money  now  to  do  it ;  and  she  kin  live 
in  South  America  same's  she  kin  here.  She's  got 
no  home  anywhere.  She  don't  like  it  here,  and  never 
did ;  you  kin  see  that  from  the  way  she  swings  'round 
from  place  to  place.  Make  her  face  it,  I  tell  ye. 
You  been  too  easy  with  her  all  your  life;  pull  her 
down  now  and  keep  her  nose  p'inted  close  to  the 
compass." 

"  You  do  not  know  of  what  you  talk,"  Jane 
359 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAEKEGAT 

answered,  her  eyes  blazing.  "  She  hates  the  past ; 
liates  everything  connected  with  it;  hates  the 
very  name  of  Barton  Holt.  ISTever  once  has  she 
mentioned  it  since  her  return.  She  never  loved 
Archie ;  she  cared  no  more  for  him  than  a  bird  that 
has  dropped  its  young  out  of  its  nest.  Besides,  your 
plan  is  impossible.  Marriage  does  not  condone  a 
sin.  The  power  to  rise  and  rectify  the  wrong  lies 
in  the  woman.  Lucy  has  not  got  it  in  her,  and  she 
never  will  have  it.  Part  of  it  is  her  fault;  a  large 
part  of  it  is  mine.  She  has  lived  this  lie  all  these 
years,  and  I  have  only  myself  to  blame.  I  have 
taught  her  to  live  it.  I  began  it  when  I  carried  her 
away  from  here;  I  should  have  kept  her  at  home 
and  had  her  face  the  consequences  of  her  sin  then. 
I  ought  to  have  laid  Archie  in  her  arms  and  kept 
him  there.  I  was  a  coward  and  could  not,  and  in 
my  fear  I  destroyed  the  only  thing  that  could  have 
saved  her — the  mother-love.  Now  she  will  run  her 
course.  She's  her  own  mistress ;  no  one  can  compel 
her  to  do  anything." 

The  captain  raised  his  clenched  hand : 

"  Bart  will,  when  he  comes." 

"How?" 

"  By  claimin'  the  boy  and  shamin'  her  before  the 
world,  if  she  don't.  She  liked  him  well  enough  when 
he  was  a  disgrace  to  himself  and  to  me,  without  a 
dollar  to  his  name.  What  ails  him  now,  when  he 

360 


THE    BKEAKHSFG    OF    THE    DAWN 

comes  back  and  owns  up  like  a  man  and  wants  to  do 
the  square  thing,  and  has  got  money  enough  to  see 
it  through  ?  She's  nothin'  but  a  tiling,  if  she  knew 
it,  till  this  disgrace's  wiped  offn  her.  By  God, 
Miss  Jane,  I  tell  you  this  has  got  to  be  put  through 
just  as  Bart  wants  it,  and  quick !  " 

Jane  stepped  closer  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  cap 
tain's  arm.  The  look  in  her  eyes,  the  low,  incisive, 
fearless  ring  in  her  voice,  overawed  him.  Her  cour 
age  astounded  him.  This  side  of  her  character  was 
a  revelation.  Under  their  influence  he  became  silent 
and  humbled — as  a  boisterous  advocate  is  humbled 
by  the  measured  tones  of  a  just  judge. 

"  It  is  not  my  friend,  Captain  Nat,  who  is  talking 
now.  It  is  the  father  who  is  speaking.  Think  for  a 
moment.  Who  has  borne  the  weight  of  this,  you  or 
I  ?  You  had  a  wayward  sou  whom  the  people  here 
think  you  drove  out  of  your  home  for  gambling  on 
Sunday.  ~No  other  taint  attaches  to  him  or  to  you. 
Dozens  of  other  sons  and  fathers  have  done  the  same. 
He  returns  a  reformed  man  and  lives  out  his  life  in 
the  home  he  left. 

"  I  had  a  wayward  sister  who  forgot  her  mother, 
me,  her  womanhood,  and  herself,  and  yet  at  whose 
door  no  suspicion  of  fault  has  been  laid.  I  stepped 
in  and  took  the  brunt  and  still  do.  I  did  this  for 
my  father's  name  and  for  my  promise  to  him  and 
for  my  love  of  her.  To  her  child  I  have  given  my 

361 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

life.  To  him  I  am  his  mother  and  will  always  be — 
always,  because  I  will  stand  by  my  fault.  That  is 
a  redemption  in  itself,  and  that  is  the  only  thing  that 
saves  me  from  remorse.  You  and  I,  outside  of  his 
father  and  mother,  are  the  only  ones  living  that  know 
of  his  parentage.  The  world  has  long  since  forgotten 
the  little  they  suspected.  Let  it  rest;  no  good  could 
come — only  suffering  and  misery.  To  stir  it  now 
would  only  open  old  wounds  and,  worst  of  all,  it 
would  make  a  new  one." 

"  In  you?" 

"  No,  worse  than  that.  My  heart  is  already 
scarred  all  over;  no  fresh  wound  would  hurt." 

"  In  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes  and  no.  He  has  never  asked  the  truth  and 
I  have  never  told  him." 

"Who,  then?" 

"  In  little  Ellen.  Let  us  keep  that  one  flower 
untouched." 

The  captain  rested  his  head  in  his  hand,  and  for 
some  minutes  made  no  answer.  Ellen  was  the  apple 
of  his  eye. 

"  But  if  Bart  insists  ?  " 

"  He  won't  insist  when  he  sees  Lucy.  She  is  no 
more  the  woman  that  he  loved  and  wronged  than  I 
ain.  He  would  not  know  her  if  he  met  her  outside 
this  house." 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

362 


THE    BKEAKING    OF    THE    DAWX 

"  Nothing.  Let  matters  take  their  course.  If  he 
is  the  man  you  think  he  is  he  will  never  break  the 
silence." 

"  And  you  will  suffer  on — and  the  doctor  ?  " 

Jane  bowed  her  head  and  the  tears  sprang  to  her 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  always ;  there  is  nothing  else  to  do." 


363 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE    UNDEKTOW 

Within  the  month  a  second  letter  was  handed  to 
the  captain  by  Tod,  now  regularly  installed  as  post 
man.  It  was  in  answer  to  one  of  Captain  Holt's 
which  he  had  directed  to  the  expected  steamer  and 
which  had  met  the  exile  on  his  arrival.  It  was  dated 
"  Amboy,"  began  "  My  dear  father,"  and  was  signed 
"  Your  affectionate  son,  Barton." 

This  conveyed  the  welcome  intelligence — welcome 
to  the  father — that  the  writer  would  be  detained  a 
few  days  in  Amboy  inspecting  the  new  machinery, 
after  which  he  would  take  passage  for  Barnegat  by 
the  Polly  Walters,  Farguson's  weekly  packet.  Then 
these  lines  followed :  "  It  will  be  the  happiest  day 
of  my  life  when  I  can  come  into  the  inlet  at  high 
tide  and  see  my  home  in  the  distance." 

Again  the  captain  sought  Jane. 

She  was  still  at  the  hospital,  nursing  some  ship 
wrecked  men — three  with  internal  injuries — who  had 
been  brought  in  from  Forked  River  Station,  the 
crew  having  rescued  them  the  week  before.  Two 

364 


THE    UNDEETOW 

of  the  regular  attendants  were  worn  out  with  the 
constant  nursing,  and  so  Jane  continued  her  vigils. 

She  had  kept  at  her  work — turning  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left,  doing  her  duty  with  the  bravery 
and  patience  of  a  soldier  on  the  firing-line,  knowing 
that  any  moment  some  stray  bullet  might  end  her 
usefulness.  She  would  not  dodge,  nor  would  she 
cower;  the  danger  was  no  greater  than  others  she 
had  faced,  and  no  precaution,  she  knew,  could  save 
her.  Her  lips  were  still  sealed,  and  would  be  to  the 
end;  some  tongue  other  than  her  own  must  betray 
her  sister  and  her  trust.  In  the  meantime  she  would 
wait  and  bear  bravely  whatever  was  sent  to  her. 

Jane  was  alone  when  the  captain  entered,  the  doc 
tor  having  left  the  room  to  begin  his  morning  inspec 
tion.  She  was  in  her  gray-cotton  nursing-dress,  her 
head  bound  about  with  a  white  kerchief.  The  pathos 
of  her  face  and  the  limp,  tired  movement  of  her  fig 
ure  would  have  been  instantly  apparent  to  a  man  less 
absorbed  in  his  own  affairs  than  the  captain. 

"  He'll  be  here  to-morrow  or  next  day !  "  he  cried, 
as  he  advanced  to  where  she  sat  at  her  desk  in  the 
doctor's  office,  the  same  light  in  his  eyes  and  the  same 
buoyant  tone  in  his  voice,  his  ruddy  face  aglow  with 
his  walk  from  the  station. 

"  You  have  another  letter  then  ? "  she  said  in  a 
resigned  tone,  as  if  she  had  expected  it  and  was 
prepared  to  meet  its  consequences.  In  her  suffering 

365 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

she  had  even  forgotten  her  customary  welcome  of 
him — for  whatever  his  attitude  and  however  gruff 
he  might  be,  she  never  forgot  the  warm  heart  be 
neath. 

"  Yes,  from  Amboy,"  panted  the  captain,  out  of 
breath  with  his  quick  walk,  dragging  a  chair  beside 
Jane's  desk  as  he  spoke.  "  He  got  mine  when  the 
steamer  come  in.  He's  goin'  to  take  the  packet  so 
he  kin  bring  his  things — got  a  lot  o?  them,  he  says. 
And  he  loves  the  old  home,  too — he  says  so — you 
kin  read  it  for  yourself."  As  he  spoke  he  unbut 
toned  his  jacket,  and  taking  Bart's  letter  from  its 
inside  pocket,  laid  his  finger  on  the  paragraph  and 
held  it  before  her  face. 

"  Have  you  talked  about  it  to  anybody  ?  "  Jane 
asked  calmly;  she  hardly  glanced  at  the  letter. 

"  Only  to  the  men ;  but  it's  all  over  Barnegat.  A 
thing  like  that's  nothin'  but  a  cask  o'  oil  overboard 
and  the  bung  out — runs  everywhere — no  use  tryin' 
to  stop  it."  He  was  in  the  chair  now,  his  arms  on  the 
edge  of  the  desk. 

"  But  you've  said  nothing  to  anybody  about  Archie 
and  Lucy,  and  what  Bart  intends  to  do  when  he 
comes,  have  you  ?  "  Jane  inquired  in  some  alarm. 

"  Not  a  word,  and  won't  till  ye  see  him.  She's 
more  your  sister  than  she  is  his  wife,  and  you  got 
most  to  say  'bout  Archie,  and  should.  You  been 
everything  to  him.  When  you've  got  through  I'll 

366 


THE    UXDEKTOW 

take  a  hand,  but  not  before."  The  captain  always 
spoke  the  truth,  and  meant  it;  his  word  settled  at 
once  any  anxieties  she  might  have  had  on  that  score. 

"  What  have  you  decided  to  do  ?  "  She  was  not 
looking  at  him  as  she  spoke;  she  was  toying  with  a 
penholder  that  lay  before  her  on  the  desk,  apparently 
intent  on  its  construction. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  meet  him  at  Farguson's  ship-yard 
when  the  Polly  comes  in,"  rejoined  the  captain  in  a 
positive  tone,  as  if  his  mind  had  long  since  been 
made  up  regarding  details,  and  he  was  reciting  them 
for  her  guidance — "  and  take  him  straight  to  my 
house,  and  then  come  for  you.  You  kin  have  it  out 
together.  Only  one  thing,  Miss  Jane" — here  his 
voice  changed  and  something  of  his  old  quarter-deck 
manner  showed  itself  in  his  face  and  gestures — "  if 
he's  laid  his  course  and  wants  to  keep  hold  of  the 
tiller  I  ain't  goin'  to  block  his  way  and  he  shall  make 
his  harbor,  don't  make  no  difference  who  or  what  gits 
in  the  channel.  Ain't  neither  of  us  earned  any  extry 
pay  for  the  way  we've  run  this  thing.  You've  got 
Lucy  ashore  flounderin'  'round  in  the  fog,  and  I  had 
no  business  to  send  him  off  without  grub  or  compass. 
If  he  wants  to  steer  now  he'll  steer.  I  don't  want 
you  to  make  no  mistake  'bout  this,  and  you'll  excuse 
me  if  I  put  it  plain." 

Jane  put  her  hand  to  her  head  and  looked  out  of 
the  window  toward  the  sea.  All  her  life  seemed  to 

367 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

be  narrowing  to  one  small  converging  path  which 
grew  smaller  and  smaller  as  she  looked  down  its 
perspective. 

"  I  understand,  captain/7  she  sighed.  All  the  fight 
was  out  of  her;  she  was  like  one  limping  across  a 
battle-field,  shield  and  spear  gone,  the  roads  un 
known. 

The  door  opened  and  the  doctor  entered.  His 
quick,  sensitive  eye  instantly  caught  the  look  of 
despair  on  Jane's  face  and  the  air  of  determination 
on  the  captain's.  What  had  happened  he  did  not 
know,  but  something  to  hurt  Jane;  of  that  he  was 
positive.  He  stepped  quickly  past  the  captain  with 
out  accosting  him,  rested  his  hand  on  Jane's  shoul 
der,  and  said  in  a  tender,  pleading  tone : 

"  You  are  tired  and  worn  out ;  get  your  cloak  and 
hat  and  I'll  drive  you  home."  Then  he  turned  to 
the  captain :  "  Miss  Jane's  been  up  for  three  nights. 
I  hope  you  haven't  been  worrying  her  with  anything 
you  could  have  spared  her  from — at  least  until  she 
got  rested,"  and  he  frowned  at  the  captain. 

"  ~No9  I  ain't  and  wouldn't.  I  been  a-tellin'  her 
of  Bart's  comin'  home.  That  ain't  nothin'  to  worry 
over — that's  something  to  be  glad  of.  You  heard 
about  it,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Morgan  told  me.  Twenty  years  will  make 
a  great  difference  in  Bart.  It  must  have  been  a  great 
surprise  to  you,  captain." 

368 


THE    UNDEKTOW 

Both  Jane  and  the  captain  tried  to  read  the  doc 
tor's  face,  and  both  failed.  Doctor  John  might  have 
been  commenting  on  the  weather  or  some  equally 
unimportant  topic,  so  light  and  casual  was  his  tone. 

He  turned  to  Jane  again. 

"  Come,  dear — please,"  he  begged.  It  was  only 
when  he  was  anxious  about  her  physical  condition 
or  over  some  mental  trouble  that  engrossed  her  that 
he  spoke  thus.  The  words  lay  always  on  the  tip  of 
his  tongue,  but  he  never  let  them  fall  unless  someone 
was  present  to  overhear. 

"  You  are  wrong,  John,"  she  answered,  bridling 
her  shoulders  as  if  to  reassure  him.  "  I  am  not  tired 
— I  have  a  little  headache,  that's  all."  With  the 
words  she  pressed  both  hands  to  her  temples  and 
smoothed  back  her  hair — a  favorite  gesture  when  her 
brain  fluttered  against  her  skull  like  a  caged  pigeon. 
"  I  will  go  home,  but  not  now — this  afternoon,  per 
haps.  Come  for  me  then,  please,"  she  added,  looking 
up  into  his  face  with  a  grateful  expression. 

The  captain  picked  up  his  cap  and  rose  from  his 
seat.  One  of  his  dreams  was  the  marriage  of  these 
two.  Episodes  like  this  only  showed  him  the  clearer 
what  lay  in  their  hearts.  The  doctor's  anxiety  and 
Jane's  struggle  to  bear  her  burdens  outside  of  his 
touch  and  help  only  confirmed  the  old  sea-dog  in  his 
determination.  When  Bart  had  his  way,  he  said  to 
himself,  all  this  would  cease. 

369 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

"  I'll  be  goin'  along,"  lie  said,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other  and  putting  on  his  cap.  "  See  you 
later,  Miss  Jane.  Morgan's  back  ag'in  to  work, 
thanks  to  you,  doctor.  That  was  a  pretty  bad  sprain 
he  had — he's  all  right  now,  though ;  went  on  practice 
yesterday.  I'm  glad  of  it — equinox  is  comin'  on 
and  we  can't  spare  a  man,  or  half  a  one,  these  days. 
May  be  blowin'  a  livin'  gale  'fore  the  week's  out. 
Good-by,  Miss  Jane ;  good-by,  doctor."  And  he  shut 
the  door  behind  him. 

With  the  closing  of  the  door  the  sound  of  wheels 
was  heard — a  crisp,  crunching  sound — and  then  the 
stamping  of  horses'  feet.  Max  Feilding's  drag, 
drawn  by  the  two  grays  and  attended  by  the  diminu 
tive  Bones,  had  driven  up  and  now  stood  beside  the 
stone  steps  of  the  front  door  of  the  hospital.  The 
coats  of  the  horses  shone  like  satin  and  every  hub 
and  plate  glistened  in  the  sunshine.  On  the  seat,  the 
reins  in  one  pretty  gloved  hand,  a  gold-mounted  whip 
in  the  other,  sat  Lucy.  She  was  dressed  in  her  smart 
est  driving  toilette — a  short  yellow-gray  jacket  fast 
ened  with  big  pearl  buttons  and  a  hat  bound  about 
with  the  breast  of  a  tropical  bird.  Her  eyes  were 
dancing,  her  cheeks  like  ripe  peaches  with  all  the 
bloom  belonging  to  them  in  evidence,  and  something 
more,  and  her  mouth  all  curves  and  dimples. 

When  the  doctor  reached  her  side — he  had  heard 
the  sound  of  the  wheels,  and  looking  through  the 

o/^rv 

O  i  0 


THE    UNDEKTOW 

window  had  caught  sight  of  the  drag — she  had  risen 
from  her  perch  and  was  about  to  spring  clear  of  the 
equipage  without  waiting  for  the  helping  hand  of 
either  Bones  or  himself.  She  was  still  a  girl  in  her 
suppleness. 

"  No,  wait  until  I  can  give  you  my  hand/'  he 
said,  hurrying  toward  her. 

"  No — I  don't  want  your  hand,  Sir  Esculapius. 
Get  out  of  the  way,  please — I'm  going  to  jump! 
There — wasn't  that  lovely  ?  "  And  she  landed  beside 
him.  "  Where's  sister  ?  I've  been  all  the  way  to 
Yardley,  and  Martha  tells  me  she  has  been  here 
almost  all  the  week.  Oh,  what  a  dreadful,  gloomy- 
looking  place !  How  many  people  have  you  got  here 
anyhow,  cooped  up  in  this  awful —  Why,  it's 
like  an  almshouse,"  she  added,  looking  about  her. 
"  Where  did  you  say  sister  was  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  and  call  her,"  interpolated  the  doctor 
when  he  could  get  a  chance  to  speak. 

"  No,  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind ;  I'll 
go  myself.  You've  had  her  all  the  week,  and  now 
it's  my  turn." 

Jane  had  by  this  time  closed  the  lid  of  her  desk, 
had  moved  out  into  the  hall,  and  now  stood  on  the 
top  step  of  the  entrance  awaiting  Lucy's  ascent.  In 
her  gray  gown,  simple  head-dress,  and  resigned  face, 
the  whole  framed  in  the  doorway  with  its  connecting 
background  of  dull  stone,  she  looked  like  one  of 

371 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

Correggio's  Madonnas  illumining  some  old  cloister 
wall. 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  dear  sister !  "  Lucy  cried,  running 
up  the  short  steps  to  meet  her.  "  I'm  so  glad  I've 
found  you;  I  was  afraid  you  were  tying  up  some 
body's  broken  head  or  rocking  a  red-flannelled  baby." 
With  this  she  put  her  arms  around  Jane's  neck  and 
kissed  her  rapturously. 

"  Where  can  we  talk  ?  Oh,  I've  got  such  a  lot  of 
things  to  tell  you!  You  needn't  come,  you  dear, 
good  doctor.  Please  take  yourself  off,  sir — this  way, 
and  out  the  gate,  and  don't  you  dare  come  back  until 
I'm  gone." 

My  Lady  of  Paris  was  very  happy  this  morning; 
bubbling  over  with  merriment — a  condition  that  set 
the  doctor  to  thinking.  Indeed,  he  had  been  think 
ing  most  intently  about  my  lady  ever  since  he  had 
heard  of  Bart's  resurrection.  He  had  also  been 
thinking  of  Jane  and  Archie.  These  last  thoughts 
tightened  his  throat;  they  had  also  kept  him  awake 
the  past  few  nights. 

The  doctor  bowed  with  one  of  his  Sir  Eoger  bows, 
lifted  his  hat  first  to  Jane  in  all  dignity  and  rever 
ence,  and  then  to  Lucy  with  a  flourish — keeping  up 
outwardly  the  gayety  of  the  occasion  and  seconding 
her  play  of  humor — walked  to  the  shed  where  his 
horse  was  tied  and  drove  off.  He  knew  these  moods 
of  Lucy's;  knew  they  were  generally  assumed  and 

372 


THE    UKDEBTOW 

that  they  always  concealed  some  purpose — one  which 
neither  a  frown  nor  a  cutting  word  nor  an  outbreak 
of  temper  would  accomplish;  but  that  fact  rarely 
disturbed  him.  Then,  again,  he  was  never  anything 
but  courteous  to  her — always  remembering  Jane's 
sacrifice  and  her  pride  in  her. 

"  And  now,  you  dear,  let  us  go  somewhere  where 
we  can  be  quiet,"  Lucy  cried,  slipping  her  arm 
around  Jane's  slender  waist  and  moving  toward  the 
hall. 

With  the  entering  of  the  bare  room  lined  with 
bottles  and  cases  of  instruments  her  enthusiasm  began 
to  cool.  Up  to  this  time  she  had  done  all  the  talking. 
Was  Jane  tired  out  nursing?  she  asked  herself;  or 
did  she  still  feel  hurt  over  her  refusal  to  take  Ellen 
with  her  for  the  summer  ?  She  had  remembered  for 
days  afterward  the  expression  on  her  face  when  she 
told  of  her  plans  for  the  summer  and  of  her  leaving 
Ellen  at  Yardley;  but  she  knew  this  had  all  passed 
out  of  her  sister's  mind.  This  was  confirmed  by 
Jane's  continued  devotion  to  Ellen  and  her  many 
kindnesses  to  the  child.  It  was  true  that  whenever 
she  referred  to  her  separation  from  Ellen,  which  she 
never  failed  to  do  as  a  sort  of  probe  to  be  assured 
of  the  condition  of  Jane's  mind,  there  was  no  direct 
reply — merely  a  changing  of  the  topic,  but  this  had 
only  proved  Jane's  devotion  in  avoiding  a  subject 
which  might  give  her  beautiful  sister  pain.  What, 

373 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAK1STEGAT 

then,  was  disturbing  her  to-day?  she  asked  herself 
with  a  slight  chill  at  her  heart.  Then  she  raised  her 
head  and  assumed  a  certain  defiant  air.  Better  not 
notice  anything  Jane  said  or  did;  if  she  was  tired 
she  would  get  rested  and  if  she  was  provoked  with 
her  she  would  get  pleased  again.  It  was  through  her 
affections  and  her  conscience  that  she  could  hold 
and  mould  her  sister  Jane — never  through  opposition 
or  fault-finding.  Besides,  the  sun  was  too  bright 
and  the  air  too  delicious,  and  she  herself  too  bliss 
fully  happy  to  worry  over  anything.  In  time  all 
these  adverse  moods  would  pass  out  of  Jane's  heart 
as  they  had  done  a  thousand  times  before. 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  precious  thing !  "  Lucy  began 
again,  all  these  matters  having  been  reviewed,  set 
tled,  and  dismissed  from  her  mind  in  the  time  it  took 
her  to  cross  the  room.  "  I'm  so  sorry  for  you  when 
I  think  of  you  shut  up  here  with  these  dreadful  peo 
ple;  but  I  know  you  wouldn't  be  happy  anywhere 
else,"  she  laughed  in  a  meaning  way.  (The  bring 
ing  in  of  the  doctor  even  by  implication  was  always 
a  good  move.)  "And  Martha  looks  so  desolate. 
Dear,  you  really  ought  to  be  more  with  her;  but  for 
my  darling  Ellen  I  don't  know  what  Martha  would 
do.  I  miss  the  child  so,  and  yet  I  couldn't  bear  to 
take  her  from  the  dear  old  woman." 

Jane  made  no  answer.  Lucy  had  found  a  chair 
now  and  had  laid  her  gloves,  parasol,  and  handker- 

374 


THE    UKDEKTOW 

chief  on  another  beside  her.  Jane  had  resumed  her 
seat;  her  slender  neck  and  sloping  shoulders  and 
sparely  modelled  head  with  its  simply  dressed  hair — 
she  had  removed  the  kerchief — in  silhouette  against 
the  white  light  of  the  window. 

"  What  is  it  all  about,  Lucy  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  grave 
tone  after  a  slight  pause  in  Lucy's  talk. 

"  I  have  a  great  secret  to  tell  you — one  you  mustn't 
breathe  until  I  give  you  leave." 

She  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair  now,  her  eyes- 
trying  to  read  Jane's  thoughts.  Her  bare  hands  were 
resting  in  her  lap,  the  jewels  flashing  from  her 
fingers;  about  her  dainty  mouth  there  hovered,  like 
a  butterfly,  a  triumphant  smile ;  whether  this  would 
alight  and  spread  its  wings  into  radiant  laughter,  or 
disappear,  frightened  by  a  gathering  frown,  depended 
on  what  would  drop  from  her  sister's  lips. 

Jane  looked  up.  The  strong  light  from  the 
window  threw  her  head  into  shadow;  only  the 
slight  fluff  of  her  hair  glistened  in  the  light.  This 
made  an  aureole  which  framed  the  Madonna's, 
face. 

"  Well,  Lucy,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  again  simply. 

"  Max  is  going  to  be  married." 

"When?"  rejoined  Jane  in  the  same  quiet  tone. 
Her  mind  was  not  on  Max  or  on  anything  connected 
with  him.    It  was  on  the  shadow  slowly  settling  upon  \ 
all  she  loved. 

375 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

"  In  December,"  replied  Lucy,  a  note  of  triumph 
in  her  voice,  her  smile  broadening. 

"  Who  to  ?  " 

"  Me.77 

With  the  single  word  a  light  ripple  escaped  from 
her  lips. 

Jane  straightened  herself  in  her  chair.  A  sudden 
faintness  passed  over  her — as  if  she  had  received  a 
blow  in  the  chest,  stopping  her  breath. 

"  You  mean — you  mean — that  you  have  promised 
to  marry  Max  Eeilding !  "  she  gasped. 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  do  mean." 

The  butterfly  smile  about  Lucy's  mouth  had  van 
ished.  That  straightening  of  the  lips  and  slow  con 
traction  of  the  brow  which  Jane  knew  so  well  was 
taking  its  place.  Then  she  added  nervously,  unclasp 
ing  her  hands  and  picking  up  her  gloves : 

"  Aren't  you  pleased  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Jane,  gazing  about  the 
room  with  a  dazed  look,  as  if  seeking  for  a  succor 
she  could  not  find.  "  I  must  think.  And  so  you  have 
promised  to  marry  Max !  "  she  repeated,  as  if  to  her 
self.  "  And  in  December."  For  a  brief  moment 
she  paused,  her  eyes  again  downcast ;  then  she  raised 
her  voice  quickly  and  in  a  more  positive  tone  asked, 
"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  do  with  Ellen  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about,  you 
dear  thing."  Lucy  had  come  prepared  to  ignore  any 

376 


THE    UKDEBTOW 

unfavorable  criticisms  Jane  might  make  and  to  give 
her  only  sisterly  affection  in  return.  "  I  want  to 
give  her  to  you  for  a  few  months  more/7  she  added 
blandly,  "  and  then  we  will  take  her  abroad  with  us 
and  send  her  to  school  either  in  Paris  or  Geneva, 
where  her  grandmother  can  be  near  her.  In  a  year 
or  two  she  will  come  to  us  in  Paris." 

Jane  made  no  answer. 

Lucy  moved  uncomfortably  in  her  chair.  She 
had  never,  in  all  her  life,  seen  her  sister  in  any  such 
mood.  She  was  not  so  much  astonished  over  her 
lack  of  enthusiasm  regarding  the  engagement;  that 
she  had  expected — at  least  for  the  first  few  days, 
until  she  could  win  her  over  to  her  own  view.  It 
was  the  deadly  poise — the  icy  reserve  that  disturbed 
her.  This  was  new. 

"  Lucy !  "  Again  Jane  stopped  and  looked  out 
of  the  window.  "  You  remember  the  letter  I  wrote 
you  some  years  ago,  in  which  I  begged  you  to  tell 
Ellen's  father  about  Archie  and  Barton  Holt  ?  " 

Lucy's  eyes  flashed. 

(  Yes,  and  you  remember  my  answer,  don't  you  ?  " 
she  answered  sharply.  "  What  a  fool  I  would  have 
been,  dear,  to  have  followed  your  advice !  " 

Jane  went  straight  on  without  heeding  the  inter 
ruption  or  noticing  Lucy's  changed  tone. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  tell  Max  ?  " 

"  I  tell  Max !  My  dear,  good  sister,  are  you 
377 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

crazy!  What  should  I  tell  Max  for?  All  that  is 
Jsad  and  buried  long  ago!  Why  do  you  want  to 
dig  up  all  these  graves  ?  Tell  Max — that  aristocrat ! 
He's  a  dear,  sweet  fellow,  but  you  don't  know  him. 
He'd  sooner  cut  his  hand  off  than  marry  me  if  he 
knew!" 

"  I'm  afraid  you  will  have  to — and  this  very  day," 
rejoined  Jane  in  a  calm,  measured  tone. 

Lucy  moved  uneasily  in  her  chair;  her  anxiety 
had  given  way  to  a  certain  ill-defined  terror.  Jane's 
voice  frightened  her. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  Because  Captain  Holt  or  someone  else  will,  if 
you  don't." 

"  What  right  has  he  or  anybody  else  to  meddle 
with  my  affairs  ? "  Lucy  retorted  in  an  indignant 
tone. 

"  Because  he  cannot  help  it.  I  intended  to  keep 
the  news  from  you  for  a  time,  but  from  what  you  have 
just  told  me  you  had  best  hear  it  now.  Barton  Holt 
is  alive.  He  has  been  in  Brazil  all  these  years,  in 
the  mines.  He  has  written  to  his  father  that  he  is 
coming  home." 

All  the  color  faded  from  Lucy's  cheeks.   . 

"  Bart !     Alive !     Coming  home !     When  ?  " 

"  He  will  be  here  day  after  to-morrow ;  he  is  at 
Amboy,  and  will  come  by  the  weekly  packet.  What 
I  can  do  I  will.  I  have  worked  all  my  life  to  save 

378 


THE    TDsTDEKTOW 

you,  and  I  may  yet,  but  it  seems  now  as  if  I  had 
reached  the  end  of  my  rope." 

"  Who  said  so  ?  Where  did  you  hear  it  ?  It 
can't  be  true !  " 

Jane  shook  her  head.  "  I  wish  it  was  not  true — 
but  it  is — every  word  of  it.  I  have  read  his  letter. " 

Lucy  sank  back  in  her  chair,  her  cheeks  livid,  a 
cold  perspiration  moistening  her  forehead.  Little 
lines  that  Jane  had  never  noticed  began  to  gather 
about  the  corners  of  her  mouth ;  her  eyes  were  wide 
open,  with  a  strained,  staring  expression.  What 
she  saw  was  Max's  eyes  looking  into  her  own,  that 
same  cold,  cynical  expression  on  his  face  she  had 
sometimes  seen  when  speaking  of  other  women  he 
had  known. 

"  What's  he  coming  for  ?  "  Her  voice  was  thick 
and  barely  audible. 

"  To  claim  his  son." 

"  He — says — he'll- — claim — Archie — as — his — 
son !  "  she  gasped.  "I'd  like  to  see  any  man  living 
dare  to " 

"  But  he  can  try,  Lucy — no  one  can  prevent  that, 
and  in  the  trying  the  world  will  know." 

Lucy  sprang  from  her  seat  and  stood  over  her 
sister : 

"  I'll  deny  it !  "  she  cried  in  a  shrill  voice ;  "  and 
face  him  down.  He  can't  prove  it!  No  one  about 
here  can !  " 

379 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

"  He  may  have  proofs  that  you  couldn't  deny, 
and  that  I  would  not  if  I  could.  Captain  Holt 
knows  everything,  remember,"  Jane  replied  in  her 
same  calm  voice. 

"But  nobody  else  does  but  you  and  Martha ! "  The 
thought  gave  her  renewed  hope — the  only  ray  she  saw. 

"  True ;  but  the  captain  is  enough.  His  heart  is 
set  on  Archie's  name  being  cleared,  and  nothing  that 
I  can  do  or  say  will  turn  him  from  his  purpose.  Do 
you  know  what  he  means  to  do  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  faintly,  more  terror  than  curi 
osity  in  her  voice. 

"  He  means  that  you  shall  marry  Barton,  and 
that  Archie  shall  be  baptized  as  Archibald  Holt. 
Barton  will  then  take  you  both  back  to  South  Amer 
ica.  A  totally  impossible  plan,  but " 

"  I  marry  Barton  Holt !  Why,  I  wouldn't  marry 
him  if  he  got  down  on  his  knees.  Why,  I  don't  even 
remember  what  he  looks  like!  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  such  impudence !  What  is  he  to  me  ?  "  The  out 
burst  carried  with  it  a  certain  relief. 

"  What  he  is  to  you  is  not  the  question.  It  is 
what  you  are  to  Archie!  Your  sin  has  been  your 
refusal  to  acknowledge  him.  Now  you  are  brought 
face  to  face  with  the  consequences.  The  world  will 
forgive  a  woman  all  the  rest,  but  never  for  deserting 
her  child,  and  that,  my  dear  sister,  is  precisely  what 
you  did  to  Archie." 

380 


THE    UNDERTOW 

Jane's  gaze  was  riveted  on  Lucy.  She  had  never 
dared  to  put  this  fact  clearly  before — not  even  to 
herself.  Now  that  she  was  confronted  with  the 
calamity  she  had  dreaded  all  these  years,  truth  was 
the  only  thing  that  would  win.  Everything  now  must 
be  laid  bare. 

Lucy  lifted  her  terrified  face,  burst  into  tears, 
and  reached  out  her  hands  to  Jane. 

"  Oh,  sister, — sister !  "  she  moaned.  "  What  shall 
I  do?  Oh,  if  I  had  never  come  home!  Can't  you 
think  of  some  way  ?  You  have  always  been  so  good — 
Oh,  please !  please !  " 

Jane  drew  Lucy  toward  her. 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can,  dear.  If  I  fail  there  is  only 
one  resource  left.  That  is  the  truth,  and  all  of  it. 
Max  can  save  you,  and  he  will  if  he  loves  you.  Tell 
him  everything !  " 


381 


CHAPTEK    XXI 

THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

The  wooden  arrow  on  the  top  of  the  cupola  of  the 
Life-Saving  Station  had  had  a  busy  night  of  it. 
With  the  going  down  of  the  sun  the  wind  had  con 
tinued  to  blow  east-southeast — its  old  course  for 
weeks — and  the  little  sentinel,  lulled  into  inaction, 
had  fallen  into  a  doze,  its  feather  end  fixed  on  the 
glow  of  the  twilight. 

At  midnight  a  rollicking  breeze  that  piped  from 
out  the  north  caught  the  sensitive  vane  napping,  and 
before  the  dawn  broke  had  quite  tired  it  out,  shift 
ing  from  point  to  point,  now  west,  now  east,  now 
nor'east-by-east,  and  now  back  to  north  again.  By 
the  time  Morgan  had  boiled  his  coffee  and  had  cut 
his  bacon  into  slivers  ready  for  the  frying-pan  the 
restless  wind,  as  if  ashamed  of  its  caprices,  had  again 
veered  to  the  north-east,  and  then,  as  if  determined 
ever  after  to  lead  a  better  life,  had  pulled  itself 
together  and  had  at  last  settled  down  to  a  steady 
blow  from  that  quarter. 

The  needle  of  the  aneroid  fastened  to  the  wall  of 
the  sitting-room,  and  in  reach  of  everybody's  eye, 

382 


THE   MAN    IN"    THE    SLOUCH   HAT 

had  also  made  a  night  of  it.  In  fact,  it  had  not  had 
a  moment's  peace  since  Captain  Holt  reset  its  register 
the  day  before.  All  its  efforts  for  continued  good 
weather  had  failed.  Slowly  but  surely  the  baffled 
and  disheartened  needle  had  sagged  from  "  Fair  " 
to  "  Change/'  dropped  back  to  "  Storm/'  and  before 
noon  the  next  day  had  about  given  up  the  fight  and 
was  in  full  flight  for  "  Cyclones  and  Tempests." 

Uncle  Isaac  Polhemus,  sitting  at  the  table  with 
one  eye  on  his  game  of  dominoes  (  Green  was  his  part 
ner)  and  the  other  on  the  patch  of  sky  framed  by  the 
window,  read  the  look  of  despair  on  the  honest  face 
of  the  aneroid,  and  rising  from  his  chair,  a  "  double 
three  "  in  his  hand,  stepped  to  where  the  weather 
prophet  hung. 

"  Sompin's  comin',  Sam,"  he  said  solemnly.  "  The 
old  gal's  got  a  bad  setback.  Ain't  none  of  us  goin' 
to  git  a  wink  o?  sleep  to-night,  or  I  miss  my  guess. 
Wonder  how  the  wind  is."  Here  he  moved  to  the 
door  and  peered  out.  "  Nor'-east  and  puffy,  just  as  I 
thought.  We're  goin'  to  hev  some  weather,  Sam — 
'ye  hear? — some  weather!"  With  this  he  regained 
his  chair  and  joined  the  double  three  to  the  long  tail 
of  his  successes.  Good  weather  or  bad  weather — 
peace  or  war — was  all  the  same  to  Uncle  Isaac.  What 
he  wanted  was  the  earliest  news  from  the  front. 

Captain  Holt  took  a  look  at  the  sky,  the  aneroid 
and  the  wind — not  the  arrow;  old  sea-dogs  know 

383 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

which  way  the  wind  blows  without  depending  on 
any  such  contrivance — the  way  the  clouds  drift,  the 
trend  of  the  white-caps,  the  set  of  a  distant  sail,  and 
on  black,  almost  breathless  nights,  by  the  feel  of  a 
wet  finger  held  quickly  in  the  air,  the  coolest  side 
determining  the  \vind  point. 

On  this  morning  the  clouds  attracted  the  captain's 
attention.  They  hung  low  and  drifted  in  long, 
straggling  lines.  Close  to  the  horizon  they  were  ashy 
pale;  being  nearest  the  edge  of  the  brimming  sea, 
they  had,  no  doubt,  seen  something  the  higher  and 
rosier-tinted  clouds  had  missed;  something  of  the 
ruin  that  was  going  on  farther  down  the  round  of  the 
sphere.  These  clouds  the  captain  studied  closely, 
especially  a  prismatic  sun-dog  that  glowed  like  a  bit 
of  rainbow  snipped  off  by  wind-scissors,  and  one  or 
two  dirt  spots  sailing  along  by  themselves. 

During  the  captain's  inspection  Archie  hove  in 
sight,  wiping  his  hands  with  a  wad  of  cotton  waste. 
He  and  Parks  had  been  swabbing  out  the  firing  gun 
and  putting  the  polished  work  of  the  cart  apparatus 
in  order. 

"  It's  going  to  blow,  captain,  isn't  it  ? "  he  called 
out.  Blows  were  what  Archie  was  waiting  for.  So- 
far  the  sea  had  been  like  a  mill-pond,  except  on  one 
or  two  occasions,  when,  to  the  boy's  great  regret, 
nothing  came  ashore. 

"  Looks  like  it.  Glass's  been  goin'  down  and  the 
384 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

wind  has  settled  to  the  nor'east.  Some  nasty  dough- 
balls  out  there  I  don't  like.  See  'em  goin'  over  that 
three-master  ? " 

Archie  looked,  nodded  his  head,  and  a  certain 
thrill  went  through  him.  The  harder  it  blew  the 
better  it  would  suit  Archie. 

"  Will  the  Polly  be  here  to-night  ?  "  he  added. 
"  Your  son's  coming,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  you  won't  see  him  to-night,  nor  to 
morrow,  not  till  this  is  over.  You  won't  catch  old 
Ambrose  out  in  this  weather"  (Captain  Ambrose 
Farguson  sailed  the  Polly).  "He'll  stick  his  nose 
in  the  basin  some'er's  and  hang  on  for  a  spell.  I 
thought  he'd  try  to  make  the  inlet,  and  I  'spected 
Bart  here  to-night  till  I  saw  the  glass  when  I  got 
up.  Ye  can't  fool  Ambrose — he  knows.  Be  two  or 
three  days  now  'fore  Bart  comes,"  he  added,  a  look 
of  disappointment  shadowing  his  face. 

Archie  kept  on  to  the  house,  and  the  captain,  after 
another  sweep  around,  turned  on  his  heel  and  re- 
entered  the  sitting-room. 

"  Green !  " 

"  Yes,  captain."  The  surfman  was  on  his  feet 
in  an  instant,  his  ears  wide  open. 

"  I  wish  you  and  Fogarty  would  look  over  those 
new  Costons  and  see  if  they're  all  right.  And, 
Polhemus,  perhaps  you'd  better  overhaul  them  cork 
jackets;  some  o'  them  straps  seemed  kind  o'  awk- 

385 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

ward  on  practice  yesterday — they  ought  to  slip  on 
easier;  guess  they're  considerable  dried  out  and  a 
little  mite  stiff." 

Green  nodded  his  head  in  respectful  assent  and 
left  the  room.  Polhemus,  at  the  mention  of  his  name, 
had  dropped  his  chair  legs  to  the  floor;  he  had  fin 
ished  his  game  of  dominoes  and  had  been  tilted  back 
against  the  wall,  awaiting  the  dinner-hour. 

"  It's  goin'  to  blow  a  livin'  gale  o'  wind,  Polhe 
mus,"  the  captain  continued;  "  that's  what  it's  goin' 
to  do.  Ye  kin  see  it  yerself.  There  she  comes 
now!" 

As  he  spoke  the  windows  on  the  sea  side  of  the 
house  rattled  as  if  shaken  by  the  hand  of  a  man 
and  as  quickly  stopped. 

"  Them  puffs  are  jest  the  tootin'  of  her  horn  "• 
this  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  toward  the  windows.   "  I 
tell  ye,  it  looks  ugly !  " 

Polhemus  gained  his  feet  and  the  two  men  stepped 
to  the  sash  and  peered  out.  To  them  the  sky  was 
always  an  open  book — each  cloud  a  letter,  each  mass 
a  paragraph,  the  whole  a  warning. 

"  But  I'm  kind  o'  glad,  Isaac."  Again  the  cap 
tain  forgot  the  surf  man  in  the  friend.  "  As  long 
as  it's  got  to  blow  it  might  as  well  blow  now  and  be 
over.  I'd  kind  o'  set  my  heart  on  Bart's  comin',  but 
I  guess  I've  waited  so  long  I  kin  wait  a  day  or  two 
more.  I  wrote  him  to  come  by  train,  but  he  wrote 

386 


THE    MAIxT    isr    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

back  lie  had  a  lot  o'  plunder  and  he'd  better  put  it 
'board  the  Polly;  and,  besides,  he  said  he  kind  o' 
wanted  to  sail  into  the  inlet  like  he  used  to  when  he 
was  a  boy.  Then  ag'in,  I  couldn't  meet  him;  not 
with  this  weather  comin'  on.  ]STo — take  it  all  in  all, 
I'm  glad  he  ain't  comin'." 

"  Well,  I  guess  yer  right,  captain,"  answered 
Uncle  Isaac  in  an  even  tone,  as  he  left  the  room  to 
overhaul  the  cork  jackets.  The  occasion  was  not 
one  of  absorbing  interest  to  Isaac. 

By  the  time  the  table  was  cleared  and  the  kitchen 
once  more  in  order  not  only  were  the  windows  on 
the  sea  side  of  the  house  roughly  shaken  by  the  ris 
ing  gale,  but  the  sand  caught  from  the  chines  was 
being  whirled  against  their  panes.  The  tide,  too, 
egged  on  by  the  storm,  had  crept  up  the  slope  of  the 
dunes,  the  spray  drenching  the  grass-tufts. 

At  five  o'clock  the  wind  blew  forty  miles  an  hour ; 
at  sundown  it  had  increased  to  fifty ;  at  eight  o'clock 
it  bowled  along  at  sixty.  Morgan,  who  had  been  to 
the  village  for  supplies,  reported  that  the  tide  was 
over  the  dock  at  Barnegat  and  that  the  roof  of  the  big 
bathing-house  at  Beach  Haven  had  been  ripped  off 
and  landed  on  the  piazza.  He  had  had  all  he  could 
do  to  keep  his  feet  and  his  basket  while  crossing 
the  marsh  on  his  way  back  to  the  station.  Then  he 
added : 

"  There's  a  lot  o'  people  there  yit.  That  feller 
387 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

from  Philadelphy  who's  inaslied  on  Cobden's  aunt 
was  swellin'  around  in  a  potato-bug  suit  o'  clothes 
as  big  as  life."  This  last  was  given  from  behind  his 
hand  after  he  had  glanced  around  the  room  and  found 
that  Archie  was  absent. 

At  eight  o'clock,  when  Parks  and  Archie  left  the 
Station  to  begin  their  patrol,  Parks  was  obliged  to 
hold  on  to  the  rail  of  the  porch  to  steady  himself,  and 
Archie,  being  less  sure  of  his  feet,  was  blown  against 
the  water-barrel  before  he  could  get  his  legs  well 
under  him.  At  the  edge  of  the  surf  the  two  separated 
for  their  four  hours'  patrol,  Archie  breasting  the  gale 
on  his  way  north,  and  Parks  hurrying  on,  helped  by 
the  wind,  to  the  south. 

At  ten  o'clock  Parks  returned.  He  had  made  his 
first  round,  and  had  exchanged  his  brass  check  with 
the  patrol  at  the  next  station.  As  he  mounted  the 
sand-dune  he  quickened  his  steps,  hurried  to  the 
Station,  opened  the  sitting-room  door,  found  it 
empty,  the  men  being  in  bed  upstairs  awaiting  their 
turns,  and  then  strode  on  to  the  captain's  room,  his 
sou'wester  and  tarpaulin  drenched  with  spray  and 
sand,  his  hip-boots  leaving  watery  tracks  along  the 
clean  floor. 

"  Wreck  ashore  at  ~No.  14,  sir !  "  Parks  called  out 
in  a  voice  hoarse  with  fighting  the  wind. 

The  captain  sprang  from  his  cot — he  was  awake, 
his  light  still  burning. 

388 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

"  Anybody  drownded  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  got  'em  all.  Seven  of  'em,  so  the  patrol 
said.  Come  ashore  'bout  supper-time." 

"What  is  she?" 

"  A  two-master  from  Virginia  loaded  with  cord- 
wood.  Surf's  in  bad  shape,  sir;  couldn't  nothin' 
live  in  it  afore;  it's  wuss  now.  Everything's  a  bob 
ble;  turrible  to  see  them  sticks  thrashin'  'round  and 
slammin'  things." 

"  Didn't  want  no  assistance,  did  they  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  they  got  the  fust  line  'round  the  fore 
mast  and  come  off  in  less'n  a  hour;  warn't  none  of 
'em  hurted." 

"  Is  it  any  better  outside  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  wuss.  I  ain't  seen  nothin'  like  it  'long 
the  coast  for  years.  Good-night,"  and  Parks  took 
another  hole  in  the  belt  holding  his  tarpaulins  to 
gether,  opened  the  back  door,  walked  to  the  edge  of 
the  house,  steadied  himself  against  the  clapboards, 
and  boldly  facing  the  storm,  continued  his  patrol. 

The  captain  stretched  himself  again  on  his  bed; 
he  had  tried  to  sleep,  but  his  brain  was  too  active. 
As  he  lay  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  surf  and  the 
shrill  wail  of  the  wind,  his  thoughts  would  revert 
to  Bart  and  what  his  return  meant;  particularly  to 
its  effect  on  the  fortunes  of  the  doctor,  of  Jane  and 
of  Lucy. 

Jane's  attitude  continued  to  astound  him.  He 
389 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEGAT 

had  expected  that  Lucy  might  not  realize  the  ad 
vantages  of  his  plan  at  first — not  until  she  had  seen 
Bart  and  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say;  but  that 
Jane,  after  the  confession  of  her  own  weakness, 
should  still  oppose  him,  was  what  he  could  not  under 
stand.  He  would  keep  his  promise,  however,  to  the 
very  letter.  She  should  have  free  range  to  dissuade 
Bart  from  his  purpose.  After  that  Bart  should  have 
his  way.  No  other  course  was  possible,  and  no  other 
course  either  honest  or  just. 

Then  he  went  over  in  his  mind  all  that  had  hap 
pened  to  him  since  the  day  he  had  driven  Bart  out 
into  the  night,  and  from  that  same  House  of  Refuge, 
too,  which,  strange  to  say,  lay  within  sight  of  the 
Station.  He  recalled  his  own  and  Bart's  sufferings ; 
his  loneliness;  the  bitterness  of  the  terrible  secret 
which  had  kept  his  mouth  closed  all  these  years,  de 
priving  him  of  even  the  intimate  companionship  of 
his  own  grandson.  With  this  came  an  increased 
love  for  the  boy;  he  again  felt  the  warm  pressure  of 
his  hand  and  caught  the  look  in  his  eyes  the  morn 
ing  Archie  congratulated  him  so  heartily  on  Bart's 
expected  return.  He  had  always  loved  him;  he 
would  love  him  now  a  thousand  times  more  when  he 
could  put  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder  and  tell 
him  everything. 

With  the  changing  of  the  patrol,  Tod  and  Polhe- 
mus  taking  the  places  of  Archie  and  Parks,  he  fell 

390 


THE    MAJST    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

into  a  doze,  waking  with  a  sudden  start  some  hours 
later,  springing  from  his  bed,  and  as  quickly  turning 
up  the  lamp. 

Still  in  his  stocking  feet  and  trousers — on  nights 
like  this  the  men  lie  down  in  half  their  clothes — he 
walked  to  the  window  and  peered  out.  It  was  near- 
ing  daylight;  the  sky  still  black.  The  storm  was  at 
its  height;  the  roar  of  the  surf  incessant  and  the 
howl  of  the  wind  deafening.  Stepping  into  the 
sitting-room  he  glanced  at  the  aneroid — the  needle 
had  not  advanced  a  point ;  then  turning  into  the  hall, 
he  mounted  the  steps  to  the  lookout  in  the  cupola, 
walked  softly  past  the  door  of  the  men's  room  so 
as  not  to  waken  the  sleepers,  particularly  Parks  and 
Archie,  whose  cots  were  nearest  the  door — both  had 
had  four  hours  of  the  gale  and  would  have  hours  more 
if  it  continued — and  reaching  the  landing,  pressed 
his  face  against  the  cool  pane  and  peered  out. 

Below  him  stretched  a  dull  waste  of  sand  hardly 
distinguishable  in  the  gloom  until  his  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  it,  and  beyond  this  the  white  line  of 
the  surf,  whiter  than  either  sky  or  sand.  This 
writhed  and  twisted  like  a  cobra  in  pain.  To  the 
north  burned  Barnegat  Light,  only  the  star  of  its 
lamp  visible.  To  the  south  stretched  alternate  bands 
of  sand,  sky,  and  surf,  their  dividing  lines  lost  in 
the  night.  Along  this  beach,  now  stopping  to  get 
their  breath,  now  slanting  the  brim  of  their  sou'- 

391 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

westers  to  escape  the  slash  of  the  sand  and  spray, 
strode  Tod  and  Polhemus,  their  eyes  on  and  beyond 
the  tumbling  surf,  their  ears  open  to  every  unusual 
sound,  their  Costons  buttoned  tight  under  their  coats 
to  keep  them  from  the  wet. 

Suddenly,  while  his  eyes  were  searching  the  hori 
zon  line,  now  hardly  discernible  in  the  gloom,  a 
black  mass  rose  from  behind  a  cresting  of  foam,  see 
sawed  for  an  instant,  clutched  wildly  at  the  sky,  and 
dropped  out  of  sight  behind  a  black  wall  of  water. 
The  next  instant  there  flashed  on  the  beach  below 
him,  and  to  the  left  of  the  station,  the  red  flare  of  a 
Coston  signal. 

With  the  quickness  of  a  cat  Captain  Holt  sprang 
to  the  stairs  shouting: 

"  A  wreck,  men,  a  wreck !  "  The  next  instant  he 
had  thrown  aside  the  door  of  the  men's  room.  "  Out 
every  one  of  ye !  Who's  on  the  beach  ?  "  And  he 
looked  over  the  cots  to  find  the  empty  ones. 

The  men  were  on  their  feet  before  he  had  ceased 
speaking,  Archie  before  the  captain's  hand  had  left 
the  knob  of  the  door. 

"  Who's  on  the  beach,  I  say  ?  "  he  shouted  again. 

"  Fogarty  and  Uncle  Ike,"  someone  answered. 

"  Polhemus !  Good !  All  hands  on  the  cart,  men ; 
boat  can't  live  in  that  surf.  She  lies  to  the  north  of 
us !  "  And  he  swung  himself  out  of  the  door  and 
down  the  stairs. 

392 


THE    MAN"    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

"  God  help  'em,  if  they've  got  to  come  through 
that  surf !  "  Parks  said,  slinging  on  his  coat.  "  The 
tide's  just  beginnin'  to  make  flood,  and  all  that  cord- 
wood  '11  come  a-waltzin'  back.  Never  see  nothin' 
like  it!" 

The  front  door  now  burst  in  and  another  shout 
went  ringing  through  the  house: 

"  Schooner  in  the  breakers !  " 

It  was  Tod.  He  had  rejoined  Polhemus  the  mo 
ment  before  he  flared  his  light  and  had  made  a  dash 
to  rouse  the  men. 

"  I  seen  her,  Fogarty,  from  the  lookout,"  cried 
the  captain,  in  answer,  grabbing  his  sou'wester;  he 
was  already  in  his  hip-boots  and  tarpaulin.  "  What 
is  she?" 

"  Schooner,  I  guess,  sir." 

"  Two  or  three  masts  ?  "  asked  the  captain  hur 
riedly,  tightening  the  strap  of  his  sou'wester  and 
slipping  the  leather  thong  under  his  gray  whiskers. 

"  Can't  make  out,  sir ;  she  come  bow  on.  Uncle 
Ike  see  her  fust."  And  he  sprang  out  after  the  men. 

A  double  door  thrown  wide;  a  tangle  of  wild  cats 
springing  straight  at  a  broad-tired  cart;  a  grappling 
of  track-lines  and  handle-bars;  a  whirl  down  the 
wooden  incline,  Tod  following  with  the  quickly 
lighted  lanterns ;  a  dash  along  the  runway,  the  sand 
cutting  their  cheeks  like  grit  from  a  whirling  stone ; 
over  the  dune,  the  men  bracing  the  cart  on  either 

393 


THE    TIDES    OF    BARNEGAT 

side,  and  down  the  beach  the  crew  swept  in  a  rush  to 
where  Polhemus  stood  waving  his  last  Coston. 

Here  the  cart  stopped. 

"  Don't  unload  nothing"  shouted  Polhemus.  "  She 
ain't  fast;  looks  to  me  as  if  she  was  draggin'  her 
anchors." 

Captain  Holt  canted  the  brim  of  his  sou'wester, 
held  his  bent  elbow  against  his  face  to  protect  it 
from  the  cut  of  the  wind,  and  looked  in  the  direction 
of  the  surfman's  fingers.  The  vessel  lay  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  shore  and  nearer  the 
House  of  Refuge  than  when  the  captain  had  first 
seen  her  from  the  lookout.  She  was  afloat  and  drift 
ing  broadside  on  to  the  coast.  Her  masts  were  still 
standing  and  she  seemed  able  to  take  care  of  herself. 
Polhemus  was  right.  Nothing  could  be  done  till 
she  grounded.  In  the  meantime  the  crew  must  keep 
abreast  of  her.  Her  fate,  however,  was  but  a  ques 
tion  of  time,  for  not  only  had  the  wind  veered  to  the 
southward — a-dead-on-shore  wind — but  the  set  of  the 
flood  must  eventually  strand  her. 

At  the  track-lines  again,  every  man  in  his  place, 
Uncle  Isaac  with  his  shoulder  under  the  spokes  of 
the  wheels,  the  struggling  crew  keeping  the  cart 
close  to  the  edge  of  the  dune,  springing  out  of  the 
way  of  the  boiling  surf  or  sinking  up  to  their  waists 
into  crevices  of  sluiceways  gullied  out  by  the  hungry 
sea.  Once  Archie  lost  his  footing  and  would  have 

394 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

been  sucked  under  by  a  comber  had  not  Captain 
Holt  grapped  him  by  the  collar  and  landed  him  on 
his  feet  again.  Now  and  then  a  roller  more  vicious 
than  the  others  would  hurl  a  log  of  wood  straight  at 
the  cart  with  the  velocity  of  a  torpedo,  and  swoop 
back  again,  the  log  missing  its  mark  by  a  length. 

When  the  dawn  broke  the  schooner  could  be  made 
out  more  clearly.  Both  masts  were  still  standing, 
their  larger  sails  blown  away.  The  bowsprit  was 
broken  short  off  close  to  her  chains.  About  this 
dragged  the  remnants  of  a  jib  sail  over  which  the 
sea  soused  and  whitened.  She  was  drifting  slowly 
and  was  now  but  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  beach, 
holding,  doubtless,  by  her  anchors.  Over  her  deck 
the  sea  made  a  clean  breach. 

Suddenly,  and  while  the  men  still  tugged  at  the 
track-ropes,  keeping  abreast  of  her  so  as  to  be  ready 
writh  the  mortar  and  shot-line,  the  ill-fated  vessel 
swung  bow  on  toward  the  beach,  rose  on  a  huge  moun 
tain  of  water,  and  threw  herself  headlong.  When  the 
smother  cleared  her  foremast  was  overboard  and  her 
deck-house  smashed.  Around  her  hull  the  waves 
gnashed  and  fought  like  white  wolves,  leaping  high, 
flinging  themselves  upon  her.  In  the  recoil  Captain 
Holt's  quick  eye  got  a  glimpse  of  the  crew ;  two  were 
lashed  to  the  rigging  and  one  held  the  tiller — a  short, 
thickset  man,  wearing  what  appeared  to  be  a  slouch 
hat  tied  over  his  ears  by  a  white  handkerchief. 

395 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABKEGAT 

With  the  grounding  of  the  vessel  a  cheer  went  up 
from  around  the  cart. 

"  Now  for  the  mortar !  " 

"  Up  with  it  on  the  dune,  men !  "  shouted  the  cap 
tain,  his  voice  ringing  above  the  roar  of  the  tempest. 

The  cart  was  forced  up  the  slope — two  men  at  the 
wheels,  the  others  straining  ahead — the  gun  lifted  out 
and  set,  Polhemus  ramming  the  charge  home,  Cap 
tain  Holt  sighting  the  piece;  there  came  a  belching 
sound,  a  flash  of  dull  light,  and  a  solid  shot  carrying 
a  line  rose  in  the  air,  made  a  curve  like  a  flying 
rocket,  and  fell  athwart  the  wreck  between  her  fore- 
stay  and  jib.  A  cheer  went  up  from  the  men  about 
the  gun.  When  this  line  was  hauled  in  and  the 
hawser  attached  to  it  made  fast  high  up  on  the  main 
mast  and  above  the  raging  sea,  and  the  car  run  off 
to  the  wreck,  the  crew  could  be  landed  clear  of  the 
surf  and  the  slam  of  the  cord-wood. 

At  the  fall  of  the  line  the  man  in  the  slouch  hat 
was  seen  to  edge  himself  forward  in  an  attempt  to 
catch  it.  The  two  men  in  the  rigging  kept  their  hold. 
The  men  around  the  cart  sprang  for  the  hawser  and 
tally-blocks  to  rig  the  buoy,  when  a  dull  cry  rose 
from  the  wreck.  To  their  horror  they  saw  the  main 
mast  waver,  flutter  for  a  moment,  and  sag  over  the 
schooner's  side.  The  last  hope  of  using  the  life-car 
was  gone!  Without  the  elevation  of  the  mast  and 
with  nothing  but  the  smashed  hull  to  make  fast  to, 

396 


THE   MAN   IN    THE    SLOUCH   HAT 

the  shipwrecked  men  would  be  pounded  into  pulp 
in  the  attempt  to  drag  them  through  the  boil  of 
wreckage. 

"  Haul  in,  men !  "  cried  the  captain.  "  No  use 
of  another  shot;  we  can't  drag  'em  through  that 
surf!" 

"  I'll  take  my  chances,"  said  Green,  stepping  for 
ward.  "  Let  me,  cap'n.  I  can  handle  7em  if  they 
haul  in  the  slack  and  make  fast." 

"  No,  you  can't,"  said  the  captain  calmly.  "  You 
couldn't  get  twenty  feet  from  shore.  We  got  to  wait 
till  the  tide  cleans  this  wood  out.  It's  workin'  right 
now.  They  kin  stand  it  for  a  while.  Certain  death 
to  bring  'em  through  that  smother — that  stuff 'd  knock 
the  brains  out  of  'em  fast  as  they  dropped  into  it. 
Signal  to  'em  to  hang  on,  Parks." 

An  hour  went  by — an  hour  of  agony  to  the  men 
clinging  to  the  grounded  schooner,  and  of  impatience 
to  the  shore  crew,  who  were  powerless.  The  only 
danger  was  of  exhaustion  to  the  shipwrecked  men 
and  the  breaking  up  of  the  schooner.  If  this  oc 
curred  there  was  nothing  left  but  a  plunge  of  rescu 
ing  men  through  the  surf,  the  life  of  every  man  in 
his  hand. 

The  beach  began  filling  up.  The  news  of  a  ship 
wreck  had  spread  with  the  rapidity  of  a  thunder- 
shower.  One  crowd,  denser  in  spots  where  the 
stronger  men  were  breasting  the  wind,  which  was 

397 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEQAT 

now  happily  on  the  wane,  were  moving  from  the  vil 
lage  along  the  beach,  others  were  stumbling  on 
through  the  marshes.  From  the  back  country,  along 
the  road  leading  from  the  hospital,  rattled  a  gig, 
the  horse  doing  his  utmost.  In  this  were  Doctor 
John  and  Jane.  She  had,  contrary  to  his  advice, 
remained  at  the  hospital.  The  doctor  had  been  awak 
ened  by  the  shouts  of  a  fisherman,  and  had  driven 
with  all  speed  to  the  hospital  to  get  his  remedies 
and  instruments.  Jane  had  insisted  upon  accom 
panying  him,  although  she  had  been  up  half  the  night 
with  one  of  the  sailors  rescued  the  week  before  by  the 
crew  of  JsTo.  14.  The  early  morning  air — it  was  now 
seven  o'clock — would  do  her  good,  she  pleaded,  and 
she  might  be  of  use  if  any  one  of  the  poor  fellows 
needed  a  woman's  care. 

Farther  down  toward  Beach  Haven  the  sand  was 
dotted  with  wagons  and  buggies;  some  filled  with, 
summer  boarders  anxious  to  see  the  crew  at  work. 
One  used  as  the  depot  omnibus  contained  Max  Feild- 
ing,  Lucy,  and  half  a  dozen  others.  She  had  passed 
a  sleepless  night,  and  hearing  the  cries  of  those 
hurrying  by  had  thrown  a  heavy  cloak  around  her 
and  opening  wide  the  piazza  door  had  caught  sight 
of  the  doomed  vessel  fighting  for  its  life.  Welcoming 
the  incident  as  a  relief  from  her  own  maddening 
thoughts,  she  had  joined  Max,  hoping  that  the  excite 
ment  might  divert  her  mind  from  the  horror  that 

398 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

overshadowed  her.  Then,  too,  she  did  not  want  to 
be  separated  a  single  moment  from  him.  Since  the 
fatal  hour  when  Jane  had  told  her  of  Bart's  expected 
return  Max's  face  had  haunted  her.  As  long  as  he 
continued  to  look  into  her  eyes,  believing  and  trust 
ing  in  her  there  was  hope.  He  had  noticed  her 
haggard  look,  but  she  had  pleaded  one  of  her  head 
aches,  and  had  kept  up  her  smiles,  returning  his 
caresses.  Some  way  would  be  opened;  some  way 
must  be  opened ! 

While  waiting  for  the  change  of  wind  and  tide 
predicted  by  Captain  Holt  to  clear  away  the  deadly 
drift  of  the  cord-wood  so  dangerous  to  the  imperilled 
men,  the  wreckage  from  the  grounded  schooner  began 
to  come  ashore — crates  of  vegetables,  barrels  of  gro 
ceries,  and  boxes  filled  with  canned  goods.  Some  of 
these  were  smashed  into  splinters  by  end-on  collisions 
with  cord- wood;  others  had  dodged  the  floatage  and 
were  landed  high  on  the  beach. 

During  the  enforced  idleness  Tod  occupied  him 
self  in  rolling  away  from  the  back-suck  of  the  surf 
the  drift  that  came  ashore.  Being  nearest  a  stranded 
crate  he  dragged  it  clear  and  stood  bending  over  it, 
reading  the  inscription.  With  a  start  he  beckoned 
to  Parks,  the  nearest  man  to  him,  tore  the  card  from 
the  wooden  slat,  and  held  it  before  the  surfman's 
face. 

"What's  this?  Eead!  That's  the  Potty  Walters 
399 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABNEGAT 

out  there,  I  tell  ye,  and  the  captain's  son's  aboard ! 
IVe  been  suspicionin'  it  all  the  mornin'.  That's  him 
with  the  slouch  hat.  I  knowed  he  warn't  no  sailor 
from  the  way  he  acted.  Don't  say  nothin'  till  we're 
sure." 

Parks  lunged  forward,  dodged  a  stick  of  cord- wood 
that  drove  straight  at  him  like  a  battering-ram  and, 
watching  his  chance,  dragged  a  floating  keg  from  the 
smother,  rolled  it  clear  of  the  surf,  canted  it  on  end, 
and  took  a  similar  card  from  its  head.  Then  he 
shouted  with  all  his  might : 

"  It's  the  Polly,  men!  It's  the  Polly— the  Pdlly 
Walters!  O  God,  ain't  that  too  bad!  Captain  Am 
brose's  drowned,  or  we'd  a-seen  him!  That  feller 
in  the  slouch  hat  is  Bart  Holt !  Gimme  that  line !  " 
He  was  stripping  off  his  waterproofs  now  ready  for 
a  plunge  into  the  sea. 

With  the  awful  words  ringing  in  his  ears  Captain 
Holt  made  a  spring  from  the  dune  and  came  running 
toward  Parks,  who  was  now  knotting  the  shot-line 
about  his  waist. 

"  What  do  you  say  she  is  ? "  he  shouted,  as  he 
flung  himself  to  the  edge  of  the  roaring  surf  and 
strained  his  eyes  toward  the  wreck. 

"  The  Polly— the  Polly  Walters!  " 

"My  God!  How  do  ye  know?  She  ain't  left 
Amboy,  I  tell  ye !  " 

"  She  has !  That's  her — see  them  kerds !  They 
400 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

come  off  that  stuff  behind  ye.  Tod  got  one  and 
I  got  t'other !  "  He  held  the  bits  of  cardboard  under 
the  rim  of  the  captain's  sou'wester. 

Captain  Holt  snatched  the  cards  from  Parks's 
hand,  read  them  at  a  glance,  and  a  dazed,  horror- 
stricken  expression  crossed  his  face.  Then  his  eye 
fell  upon  Parks  knotting  the  shot-line  about  his 
waist. 

"  Take  that  off !  Parks,  stay  where  ye  are ;  don't 
ye  move,  I  tell  ye." 

As  the  words  dropped  from  the  captain's  lips  a 
horrified  shout  went  up  from  the  bystanders.  The 
wreck,  with  a  crunching  sound,  was  being  lifted  from 
the  sand.  She  rose  steadily,  staggered  for  an  instant 
and  dropped  out  of  sight.  She  had  broken  amidships. 
With  the  recoil  two  ragged  bunches  showed  above  the 
white  wash  of  the  water.  On  one  fragment — a  splin 
tered  mast — crouched  the  man  with  the  slouch  hat; 
to  the  other  clung  the  two  sailors.  The  next  instant 
a  great  roller,  gathering  strength  as  it  came,  threw 
itself  full  length  on  both  fragments  and  swept  on. 
Only  wreckage  was  left  and  one  head. 

With  a  cry  to  the  men  to  stand  by  and  catch  the 
slack,  the  captain  ripped  a  line  from  the  drum  of 
the  cart,  dragged  off  his  high  boots,  knotted  the 
bight  around  his  waist,  and  started  on  a  run  for  the 
surf. 

Before  his  stockinged  feet  could  reach  the  edge  of 
401 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

the  foam,  Archie  seized  him  around  the  waist  and 
held  him  with  a  grip  of  steel. 

"  You  sha'n't  do  it,  captain !  "  he  cried,  his  eyes 
blazing.  "  Hold  him,  men — I'll  get  him !  "  With 
the  bound  of  a  cat  he  landed  in  the  middle  of  the 
floatage,  dived  under  the  logs,  rose  on  the  boiling 
surf,  worked  himself  clear  of  the  inshore  wreckage, 
and  struck  out  in  the  direction  of  the  man  clinging 
to  the  shattered  mast,  and  who  was  now  nearing  the 
beach,  whirled  on  by  the  inrushing  seas. 

Strong  men  held  their  breath,  tears  brimming  their 
eyes.  Captain  Holt  stood  irresolute,  dazed  for  the 
moment  by  Archie's  danger.  The  beach  women — 
Mrs.  Fogarty  among  them — were  wringing  their 
hands.  They  knew  the  risk  better  than  the  others. 

Jane,  at  Archie's  plunge,  had  run  down  to  the 
edge  of  the  surf  and  stood  with  tight-clenched  fin 
gers,  her  gaze  fixed  on  the  lad's  head  as  he  breasted 
the  breakers — her  face  white  as  death,  the  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks.  Fear  for  the  boy  she 
loved,  pride  in  his  pluck  and  courage,  agony  over  the 
result  of  the  rescue,  all  swept  through  her  as  she 
strained  her  eyes  seaward. 

Lucy,  Max,  and  Mrs.  Coates  were  huddled  to 
gether  under  the  lee  of  the  dune.  Lucy's  eyes  were 
staring  straight  ahead  of  her;  her  teeth  chattering 
with  fear  and  cold.  She  had  heard  the  shouts  of 
Parks  and  the  captain,  and  knew  now  whose  life  was 

402 


THE    MA^"    IN    THE    SLOUCH   HAT 

at  stake.  There  was  no  hope  left;  Archie  would 
win  and  pull  him  out  alive,  and  her  end  would 
come. 

The  crowd  watched  the  lad  until  his  hand  touched 
the  mast,  saw  him  pull  himself  hand  over  hand  along 
its  slippery  surface  and  reach  out  his  arms.  Then 
a  cheer  went  up  from  a  hundred  throats,  and  as  in 
stantly  died  away  in  a  moan  of  terror.  Behind, 
towering  over  them  like  a  huge  wall,  came  a  wave  of 
black  water,  solemn,  merciless,  uncrested,  as  if  bent 
on  deadly  revenge.  Under  its  impact  the  shattered 
end  of  the  mast  rose  clear  of  the  wrater,  tossed  about 
as  if  in  agony,  veered  suddenly  with  the  movement  of 
a  derrick-boom,  and  with  its  living  freight  dashed 
headlong  into  the  swirl  of  cord-wood. 

As  it  ploughed  through  the  outer  drift  and  reached 
the  inner  line  of  wreckage,  Tod,  whose  eyes  had  never 
left  Archie  since  his  leap  into  the  surf,  made  a  run 
ning  jump  from  the  sand,  landed  on  a  tangle  of  drift, 
and  sprang  straight  at  the  section  of  the  mast  to 
which  Archie  clung.  The  next  instant  the  surf  rolled 
clear,  submerging  the  three  men. 

Another  ringing  order  now  rose  above  the  roar 
of  the  waters,  and  a  chain  of  rescuing  surf  men — the 
last  resort — with  Captain  Nat  at  the  head  dashed 
into  the  turmoil. 

It  was  a  hand-to-hand  fight  now  with  death.  At 
the  first  onslaught  of  the  battery  of  wreckage  Polhe- 

403 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKKEGAT 

ixms  was  knocked  breathless  by  a  blow  in  the  stomach 
and  rescued  by  the  bystanders  just  as  a  log  was 
curling  over  him.  Green  was  hit  by  a  surging  crate, 
and  Mulligan  only  saved  from  the  crush  of  the  cord- 
wood  by  the  quickness  of  a  fisherman.  Morgan, 
watching  his  chance,  sprang  clear  of  a  tangle  of  bar 
rels  and  cord-wood,  dashed  into  the  narrow  gap  of 
open  water,  and  grappling  Tod  as  he  whirled  past, 
twisted  his  fingers  in  Archie's  waistband.  The  three 
were  then  pounced  upon  by  a  relay  of  fishermen  led 
by  Tod's  father  and  dragged  from  under  the  crunch 
and  surge  of  the  smother.  Both  Tod  and  Morgan 
were  unhurt  and  scrambled  to  their  feet  as  soon  as 
they  gained  the  hard  sand,  but  Archie  lay  insensible 
where  the  men  had  dropped  him,  his  body  limp,  his 
feet  crumpled  under  him. 

All  this  time  the  man  in  the  slouch  hat  was  being 
swirled  in  the  hell  of  wreckage,  the  captain  mean 
while  holding  to  the  human  chain  with  one  hand  and 
fighting  with  the  other  until  he  reached  the  half- 
drowned  man  whose  grip  had  now  slipped  from 
the  crate  to  which  he  clung.  As  the  two  were 
shot  in  toward  the  beach,  Green,  who  had  recov 
ered  his  breath,  dodged  the  recoil,  sprang  straight 
for  them,  threw  the  captain  a  line,  which  he  caught, 
dashed  back  and  dragged  the  two  high  up  on  the 
beach,  the  captain's  arm  still  tightly  locked  about  the 
rescued  man. 

404 


THE    MAN"    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

A  dozen  hands  were  held  out  to  relieve  the  captain 
of  his  burden,  but  he  only  waved  them  away. 

"  I'll  take  care  of  him !  "  he  gasped  in  a  voice 
almost  gone  from  buffeting  the  waves,  as  the  body 
slipped  from  his  arms  to  the  wet  sand.  "  Git  out 
of  the  way,  all  of  you !  " 

Once  on  his  feet,  he  stood  for  an  instant  to  catch 
his  breath,  wrung  the  grime  from  his  ears  with  his 
stiff  fingers,  and  then  shaking  the  water  from  his 
shoulders  as  a  dog  would  after  a  plunge,  he  passed 
his  great  arms  once  more  under  the  bedraggled  body 
of  the  unconscious  man  and  started  up  the  dune 
toward  the  House  of  Refuge,  the  water  dripping 
from  both  their  wet  bodies.  Only  once  did  he  pause, 
and  then  to  shout: 

"  Green, — Mulligan !  Go  back,  some  o?  ye,  and 
git  Archie.  He's  hurt  bad.  Quick,  now!  And  one 
o'  ye  bust  in  them  doors.  And —  Polhemus,  pull 
some  coats  off  that  crowd  and  a  shawl  or  two  from 
them  women  if  they  can  spare  'em,  and  find  Doctor 
John,  some  o'  ye !  D'ye  hear !  Doctor  John!  " 

A  dozen  coats  were  stripped  from  as  many  backs, 
a  shawl  of  Mrs.  Fogarty's  handed  to  Polhemus,  the 
doors  burst  in  and  Uncle  Isaac  lunging  in  tumbled 
the  garments  on  the  floor.  On  these  the  captain  laid 
the  body  of  the  rescued  man,  the  slouch  hat  still 
clinging  to  his  head. 

While  this  was  being  done  another  procession  was 
405 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

approaching  the  house.  Tod  and  Parks  were  carry 
ing  Archie's  unconscious  form,  the  water  dripping 
from  his  clothing.  Tod  had  his  hands  under  the 
boy's  armpits  and  Parks  carried  his  feet.  Behind 
the  three  walked  Jane,  half  supported  by  the  doctor. 

"  Dead !  "  she  moaned.  "  Oh,  no — no — no,  John ; 
it  cannot  be !  Not  my  Archie !  my  brave  Archie !  " 

The  captain  heard  the  tramp  of  the  men's  feet 
on  the  board  floor  of  the  runway  outside  and  rose 
to  his  feet.  He  had  been  kneeling  beside  the  form 
of  the  rescued  man.  His  face  was  knotted  with  the 
agony  he  had  passed  through,  his  voice  still  thick 
and  hoarse  from  battling  with  the  sea. 

"  What's  that  she  says  ? "  he  cried,  straining  his 
ears  to  catch  Jane's  words.  "  What's  that !  Archie 
dead !  No !  'Tain't  so,  is  it,  doctor  ?  " 

Doctor  John,  his  arm  still  supporting  Jane,  shook 
his  head  gravely  and  pointed  to  his  own  forehead. 

"  It's  all  over,  captain,"  he  said  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  Skull  fractured." 

"  Hit  with  them  logs !  Archie !  Oh,  my  God ! 
And  this  man  ain't  much  better  off — he  ain't  hardly 
breathin'.  See  for  yerself,  doctor.  Here,  Tod,  lay 
Archie  on  these  coats.  Move  back  that  boat,  men, 
to  give  'em  room,  and  push  them  stools  out  of  the 
way.  Oh,  Miss  Jane,  maybe  it  ain't  true,  maybe 
he'll  come  round!  I've  seen  'em  this  way-more'n 
a  dozen  times.  Here,  doctor  let's  get  these  wet 

406 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

clones  off  'em."  He  dropped  between  the  two  limp, 
soggy  bodies  and  began  tearing  open  the  shirt  from 
the  man's  chest.  Jane,  who  had  thrown  herself  in 
a  passion  of  grief  on  the  water-soaked  floor  beside 
Archie,  commenced  wiping  the  dead  boy's  face  with 
her  handkerchief,  smoothing  the  short  wet  curls  from 
his  forehead  as  she  wept. 

The  man's  shirt  and  collar  loosened,  Captain  Holt 
pulled  the  slouch  hat  from  his  head,  wrenched  the 
wet  shoes  loose,  wrapped  the  cold  feet  in  the  dry 
shawl,  and  began  tucking  the  pile  of  coats  closer 
about  the  man's  shoulders  that  he  might  rest  the 
easier.  For  a  moment  he  looked  intently  at  the  pal 
lid  face  smeared  with  ooze  and  grime,  and  limp 
body  that  the  doctor  was  working  over,  and  then 
stepped  to  where  Tod  now  crouched  beside  his  friend, 
the  one  he  had  loved  all  his  life.  The  young  surf- 
man's  strong  body  was  shaking  with  the  sobs  he 
could  no  longer  restrain. 

"  It's  rough,  Tod,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  choking 
voice,  which  grew  clearer  as  he  talked  on.  "  Al 
mighty  rough  on  ye  and  on  all  of  us.  You  did  what 
you  could — ye  risked  yer  life  for  him,  and  there 
ain't  nobody  kin  do  more.  I  wouldn't  send  ye  out 
again,  but  there's  work  to  do.  Them  two  men  of 
Cap'n  Ambrose's  is  drowned,  and  they'll  come  ashore 
some'er's  near  the  inlet,  and  you  and  Parks  better 
hunt  'em  up.  They  live  up  to  Barnegat,  ye  know, 

407 


THE    TIDES    OF   BARNEGAT 

and  their  folks'll  be  wantin'  'em."  It  was  strange 
how  calm  he  was.  His  sense  of  duty  was  now  con 
trolling  him. 

Tod  had  raised  himself  to  his  feet  when  the  cap 
tain  had  begun  to  speak  and  stood  with  his  wet  sou' 
wester  in  his  hand. 

"  Been  like  a  brother  to  me,"  was  all  he  said,  as 
he  brushed  the  tears  from  his  eyes  and  went  to  join 
Parks. 

The  captain  watched  Tod's  retreating  figure  for 
a  moment,  and  bending  again  over  Archie's  corpse, 
stood  gazing  at  the  dead  face,  his  hands  folded  across 
his  girth — as  one  does  when  watching  a  body  being 
slowly  lowered  into  a  grave. 

"  I  loved  ye,  boy,"  Jane  heard  him  say  between 
her  sobs.  "  I  loved  ye !  You  knowed  it,  boy.  I 
hoped  to  tell  ye  so  out  loud  so  everybody  could  hear. 
Now  they'll  never  know." 

Straightening  himself  up,  he  walked  firmly  to  the 
open  door  about  which  the  people  pressed,  held  back 
by  the  line  of  surfmen  headed  by  Polhemus,  and 
calmly  surveyed  the  crowd.  Close  to  the  opening, 
trying  to  press  her  way  in  to  Jane,  his  eyes  fell  on 
Lucy.  Behind  her  stood  Max  Feilding. 

"  Friends,"  said  the  captain,  in  a  low,  restrained 
voice,  every  trace  of  his  grief  and  excitement  gone, 
"  I've  got  to  ask  ye  to  git  considerable  way  back 
and  keep  still.  We  got  Doctor  John  here  and  Miss 

408 


THE    MAN    IN    THE    SLOUCH    HAT 

Jane,  and  there  ain't  nothin'  ye  kin  do.  When 
there  is  I'll  call  ye.  Polhemus,  you  and  Green  see 
this  order  is  obeyed." 

Again  he  hesitated,  then  raising  his  eyes  over  the 
group  nearest  the  door,  he  beckoned  to  Lucy,  pushed 
her  in  ahead  of  him,  caught  the  swinging  doors  in 
his  hands,  and  shut  them  tight.  This  done,  he  again 
dropped  on  his  knees  beside  the  doctor  and  the  now 
breathing  man. 


409 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   CLAW  OF  THE  SEA-PUSS 

With  the  closing  of  the  doors  the  murniur  of  the 
crowd,  the  dull  glare  of  the  gray  sky,  and  the  thrash 
of  the  wind  were  shut  out.  The  only  light  in  the 
House  of  Refuge  now  came  from  the  two  small 
windows,  one  above  the  form  of  the  suffering  man 
and  the  other  behind  the  dead  body  of  Archie.  Jane's 
head  was  close  to  the  boy's  chest,  her  sobs  coming 
from  between  her  hands,  held  before  her  face.  The 
shock  of  Archie's  death  had  robbed  her  of  all  her 
strength.  Lucy  knelt  beside  her,  her  shoulder  resting 
against  a  pile  of  cordage.  Every  now  and  then  she 
would  steal  a  furtive  glance  around  the  room — at 
the  boat,  at  the  rafters  overhead,  at  the  stove  with 
its  pile  of  kindling — and  a  slight  shudder  would 
pass  through  her.  She  had  forgotten  nothing  of  the 
past,  nor  of  the  room  in  which  she  crouched.  Every 
scar  and  stain  stood  out  as  clear  and  naked  as  those 
on  some  long-buried  wreck  dug  from  shifting  sands 
by  a  change  of  tide. 

A  few  feet  away  the  doctor  was  stripping  the  wet 
clothes  from  the  rescued  man  and  piling  the  dry 
coats  over  him  to  warm  him  back  to  life.  His  emer- 

410 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

gency  bag,  handed  in  by  Polhemus  through  the  crack 
of  the  closed  doors,  had  been  opened,  a  bottle  selected, 
and  some  spoonfuls  of  brandy  forced  down  the  suf 
ferer's  throat.  He  saw  that  the  sea-water  had  not 
harmed  him;  it  was  the  cordwood  and  wreckage 
that  had  crushed  the  breath  out  of  him.  In  confirma 
tion  he  pointed  to  a  thin  streak  of  blood  oozing  from 
one  ear.  The  captain  nodded,  and  continued  chafing 
the  man's  hands — working  with  the  skill  of  a  surf- 
man  over  the  water-soaked  body.  Once  he  remarked 
in  a  half-whisper — so  low  that  Jane  could  not  hear 
him: 

"  I  ain't  sure  yet,  doctor.  I  thought  it  was  Bart 
when  I  grabbed  him  fust;  but  he  looks  kind  o' 
different  from  what  I  expected  to  see  him.  If  it's 
him  he'll  know  me  when  he  comes  to.  I  ain't  changed 
so  much  maybe.  I'll  rub  his  feet  now/'  and  he  kept 
on  with  his  work  of  resuscitation. 

Lucy's  straining  ears  had  caught  the  captain's 
words  of  doubt,  but  they  gave  her  no  hope.  She 
had  recognized  at  the  first  glance  the  man  of  all 
others  in  the  world  she  feared  most.  His  small 
ears,  the  way  the  hair  grew  on  the  temples,  the  bend 
of  the  neck  and  slope  from  the  chin  to  the  throat. 
No — she  had  no  misgivings.  These  features  had 
been  part  of  her  life — had  been  constantly  before 
her  since  the  hour  Jane  had  told  her  of  Bart's  ex 
pected  return.  Her  time  had  come;  nothing  could 

411 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKNEGAT 

cave  her.  He  would  regain  consciousness,  just  as 
the  captain  had  said,  and  would  open  those  awful 
hollow  eyes  and  would  look  at  her,  and  then  that 
dreadful  mouth,  with  its  thin,  ashen  lips,  would  speak 
to  her,  and  she  could  deny  nothing.  Trusting  to  her 
luck — something  which  had  never  failed  her — she 
had  continued  in  her  determination  to  keep  every 
thing  from  Max.  Now  it  would  all  come  as  a  shock 
to  him,  and  when  he  asked  her  if  it  wTas  true  she 
could  only  bow  her  head. 

She  dared  not  look  at  Archie — she  could  not. 
All  her  injustice  to  him  and  to  Jane;  her  abandon 
ment  of  him  when  a  baby ;  her  neglect  of  him  since, 
her  selfish  life  of  pleasure ;  her  triumph  over  Max — 
all  came  into  review,  one  picture  after  another,  like 
the  unrolling  of  a  chart.  Even  while  her  hand  was 
on  Jane's  shoulder,  and  while  comforting  words  fell 
from  her  lips,  her  mind  and  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
face  of  the  man  whom  the  doctor  was  slowly  bringing 
back  to  life. 

Not  that  her  sympathy  was  withheld  from  Archie 
and  Jane.  It  was  her  terror  that  dominated  her — 
a  terror  that  froze  her  blood  and  clogged  her  veins 
and  dulled  every  sensibility  and  emotion.  She  was 
like  one  lowered  into  a  grave  beside  a  corpse  upon 
which  every  moment  the  earth  would  fall,  entombing 
the  living  with  the  dead. 

The  man  groaned  and  turned  his  head,  as  if  in 
412 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

pain.  A  convulsive  movement  of  the  lips  and  face 
followed,  and  then  the  eyes  partly  opened. 

Lucy  clutched  at  the  coil  of  rope,  staggered  to  her 
feet,  and  braced  herself  for  the  shock.  He  would 
rise  now,  and  begin  staring  about,  and  then  he  would 
recognize  her.  The  captain  knew  what  was  coming ; 
he  was  even  now  planning  in  his  mind  the  details 
of  the  horrible  plot  of  which  Jane  had  told  her ! 

Captain  Holt  stooped  closer  and  peered  under  the 
half-closed  lids. 

"  Brown  eyes/'  she  heard  him  mutter  to  him 
self,  "  just  ?s  the  Swede  told  me."  She  knew  their 
color;  they  had  looked  into  her  own  too  often. 

Doctor  John  felt  about  with  his  hand  and  drew  a 
small  package  of  letters  from  inside  the  man's  shirt. 
They  were  tied  with  a  string  and  soaked  with  salt 
water.  This  he  handed  to  the  captain. 

The  captain  pulled  them  apart  and  examined  them 
carefully. 

"  It's  him,"  he  said  with  a  start,  "  it's  Bart !  It's 
all  plam  now.  Here's  my  letter,"  and  he  held  it  up. 
"  See  the  printing  at  the  top — i  Life-Saving  Serv 
ice  '  ?  And  here's  some  more — they're  all  stuck  to 
gether.  Wait !  here's  one — fine  writing."  Then  his 
voice  dropped  so  that  only  the  doctor  could  hear: 
"Ain't  that  signed  'Lucy'?  Yes — 'Lucy' — and 
it's  an  old  one." 

The  doctor  waved  the  letters  away  and  again  laid 
413 


THE    TIDES    OF    BAKN"EGAT 

his  hand  on  the  sufferer's  chest,  keeping  it  close  to 
his  heart.  The  captain  bent  nearer.  Jane,  who, 
crazed  with  grief,  had  been  caressing  Archie's  cold 
cheeks,  lifted  her  head  as  if  aware  of  the  approach 
of  some  crisis,  and  turned  to  where  the  doctor  knelt 
beside  the  rescued  man.  Lucy  leaned  forward  with 
straining  eyes  and  ears. 

The  stillness  of  death  fell  upon  the  small  room. 
Outside  could  be  heard  the  pound  and  thrash  of  the 
surf  and  the  moan  of  the  gale;  no  human  voice — 
men  and  women  were  talking  in  whispers.  One  soul 
had  gone  to  God  and  another  life  hung  by  a  thread. 

The  doctor  raised  his  finger. 

The  man's  face  twitched  convulsively,  the  lids 
opened  wider,  there  came  a  short,  inward  gasp,  and 
the  jaw  dropped. 

"  He's  dead,"  said  the  doctor,  and  rose  to  his 
feet.  Then  he  took  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket 
and  laid  it  over  the  dead  man's  face. 

As  the  words  fell  from  his  lips  Lucy  o.nught  at 
the  wall,  and  with  an  almost  hysterical  cry  of  joy 
threw  herself  into  Jane's  arms. 

The  captain  leaned  back  against  the  life-boa;;  and 
for  some  moments  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  body 
of  his  dead  son. 

"  I  ain't  never  loved  nothin'  all  my  life,  doctor," 
he  said,  his  voice  choking,  "  that  it  didn't  go  that 


way." 


414 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

Doctor  John  made  no  reply  except  with  his  eyes. 
Silence  is  ofttimes  more  sympathetic  than  the  spoken 
word.  He  was  putting  his  remedies  back  into  his 
bag  so  that  he  might  rejoin  Jane.  The  captain 
continued : 

"  All  I've  got  is  gone  now — the  wife,  Archie,  and 
now  Bart.  I  counted  on  these  two.  Bad  day's  work, 
doctor — bad  day's  work.'7  Then  in  a  firm  tone,  "  I'll 
open  the  doors  now  and  call  in  the  men;  we  got  to 
git  these  two  bodies  up  to  the  Station,  and  then  we'll 
get  ?em  home  somehow." 

Instantly  all  Lucy's  terror  returned.  An  unac 
countable,  unreasoning  panic  took  possession  of  her. 
All  her  past  again  rose  before  her.  She  feared  the 
captain  now  more  than  she  had  Bart.  Crazed  over  the 
loss  of  his  son  he  would  blurt  out  everything.  Max 
would  hear  and  know — know  about  Archie  and  Bart 
and  all  her  life! 

Springing  to  her  feet,  maddened  with  an  unde- 
finable  terror,  she  caught  the  captain's  hand  as  he 
reached  out  for  the  fastenings  of  the  door. 

"  Don't — don't  tell  them  who  he  is !  Promise 
me  you  won't  tell  them  anything!  Say  it's  a 
stranger!  You  are  not  sure  it's  he — I  heard  you 
say  so !  " 

"  Not  say  it's  my  own  son !  Why  ?  "  He  was 
entirely  unconscious  of  what  was  in  her  aaiad. 

Jane  had  risen  to  her  feet  at  the  note  of  agony 
415 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAENEGAT 

in  Lucy's  voice  and  had  stepped  to  her  side  as  if  to 
protect  her.  The  doctor  stood  listening  in  amaze 
ment  to  Lucy's  outbreak.  He  knew  her  reasons,  and 
was  appalled  at  her  rashness. 

"  RTo !  Don't — dont !  "  Lucy  was  looking  up  into 
the  captain's  face  now,  all  her  terror  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  I  can't  see  what  good  that'll  do !  "  For 
the  moment  he  thought  that  the  excitement  had 
turned  her  head.  "  Isaac  Polhemus  '11  know  him," 
he  continued,  "  soon's  he  sets  his  eyes  on  him.  And 
even  if  I  was  mean  enough  to  do  it,  which  I  ain't, 
these  letters  would  tell.  They've  got  to  go  to  the 
Superintendent  'long  with  everything  else  found  on 
bodies.  Your  name's  on  some  o'  'em  and  mine's  on 
some  others.  We'll  git  'em  ag'in,  but  not  till  Gov'- 
ment  see  'em." 

These  were  the  letters  which  had  haunted  her! 

"  Give  them  to  me !  They're  mine !  "  she  cried, 
seizing  the  captain's  fingers  and  trying  to  twist  the 
letters  from  his  grasp. 

A  frown  gathered  on  the  captain's  brow  and  his 
voice  had  an  ugly  ring  in  it : 

"  But  I  tell  ye  the  Superintendent's  got  to  have 
'em  for  a  while.  That's  regulations,  and  that's  what 
we  carry  out.  They  ain't  goin'  to  be  lost — you'll 
git  ?em  ag'in." 

"  He  sha'n't  have  them,  I  tell  you !  "  Her  voice 
rang  now  with  something  of  her  old  imperious  tone. 

416 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

"  Nobody    shall    have    them.      They're    mine — not 
yours — nor  his.    Give  them " 

"  And  break  my  oath !  "  interrupted  the  captain. 
For  the  first  time  he  realized  what  her  outburst 
meant  and  what  inspired  it. 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  in  a  matter  like 
this  ?  Give  them  to  me.  You  dare  not  keep  them," 
she  cried,  tightening  her  fingers  in  the  effort  to 
wrrench  the  letters  from  his  hand.  "  Sister — doctor 
— speak  to  him !  Make  him  give  them  to  me — I  will 
have  them !  " 

The  captain  brushed  aside  her  hand  as  easily  as  a 
child  would  brush  aside  a  flower.  His  lips  were  tight 
shut,  his  eyes  flashing. 

"  You  want  me  to  lie  to  the  department  ?  " 

"Yes!"  She  was  beside  herself  now  with  fear 
and  rage.  "  I  don't  care  who  you  lie  to !  You 
brute — you  coward —  I  want  them!  I  will  have 
them !  "  Again  she  made  a  spring  for  the  letters. 

"  See  here,  you  she-devil.  Look  at  me !  " — the 
words  came  in  cold,  cutting  tones.  "  You're  the  only 
thing  livin',  or  dead,  that  ever  dared  ask  Nathaniel 
Holt  to  do  a  thing  like  that.  And  you  think  I'd 
do  it  to  oblige  ye?  You're  rotten  as  punk — that's 
what  ye  are!  Rotten  from  yer  keel  to  yer  top-gal 
lant  !  and  allus  have  been  since  I  knowed  ye !  " 

Jane  started  forward  and  faced  the  now  enraged 
man. 

417 


THE    TIDES    OF    BABXEGAT 

"  You  must  not,  captain — you  shall  not  speak  to 
my  sister  that  way !  "  she  commanded. 

The  doctor  stepped  between  them :  "  You  forget 
that  she  is  a  woman.  I  forbid  you  to — 

"  I  will,  I  tell  ye,  doctor !  It's  true,  and  you 
know  it."  The  captain's  voice  now  dominated  the 
room. 

"  That's  no  reason  why  you  should  abuse  her. 
You're  too  much  of  a  man  to  act  as  you  do." 

"  It's  because  I'm  a  man  that  I  do  act  this  way. 
She's  done  nothin'  but  bring  trouble  to  this  town 
ever  since  she  landed  in  it  from  school  nigh  twenty 
year  ago.  Druv  out  that  dead  boy  of  mine  lyin' 
there,  and  made  a  tramp  of  him;  throwed  Archie 
off  on  Miss  Jane ;  lied  to  the  man  who  married  her, 
and  been  livin'  a  lie  ever  since.  And  now  she  wants 
me  to  break  my  oath !  Damn  her — 

The  doctor  laid  his  hand  over  the  captain's  mouth. 
"  Stop  !  And  I  mean  it !  "  His  own  calm  eyes  were 
flashing  now.  "  This  is  not  the  place  for  talk  of  this 
kind.  We  are  in  the  presence  of  death,  and " 

The  captain  caught  the  doctor's  wrist  and  held  it 
like  a  vice. 

"  I  won't  stop.  I'll  have  it  out — I've  lived  all 
the  lies  I'm  goin'  to  live !  I  told  you  all  this  fifteen 
year  ago  when  I  thought  Bart  was  dead,  and  you 
wanted  me  to  keep  shut,  and  I  did,  and  you  did,  too, 
and  you  ain't  never  opened  your  mouth  since.  That's 

418 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

because  you're  a  man — all  four  square  sides  of  ye. 
You  didn't  want  to  hurt  Miss  Jane,  and  no  more  did 
I.  That's  why  I  passed  Archie  there  in  the  street; 
that's  why  I  turned  round  and  looked  after  him  when 
I  couldn't  see  sometimes  for  the  tears  in  my  eyes ;  and 
all  to  save  that  thing  there  that  ain't  wrorth  savin' ! 
By  God,  when  I  think  of  it  I  want  to  tear  my  tongue 
out  for  keepin'  still  as  long  as  I  have !  " 

Lucy,  who  had  shrunk  back  against  the  wall,  now 
raised  her  head : 

"  Coward !    Coward !  "  she  muttered. 

The  captain  turned  and  faced  her,  his  eyes  blazing, 
his  rage  uncontrollable : 

"  Yes,  you're  a  thing,  I  tell  ye ! — and  I'll  say  it 
ag'in.  I  used  to  think  it  was  Bart's  fault.  Now  I 
know  it  warn't.  It  was  yours.  You  tricked  him, 
damn  ye!  Do  ye  hear?  Ye  tricked  him  with  yer 
lies  and  yer  ways.  Now  they're  over — there'll  be  no 
more  lies — not  while  I  live!  I'm  goin'  to  strip  ye 
to  bare  poles  so's  folks  'round  here  kin  see.  Git  out 
of  my  way — all  of  ye !  Out,  I  tell  ye !  " 

The  doctor  had  stepped  in  front  of  the  infuriated 
man,  his  back  to  the  closed  door,  his  open  palm  up 
raised. 

"  I  will  not,  and  you  shall  not !  "  he  cried.  "  What 
you  are  about  do  to  is  ruin — for  Lucy,  for  Jane,  and 
for  little  Ellen.  You  cannot — you  shall  not  put  such 

a  stain  upon  that  child.     You  love  her,  you " 

419 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKKEGAT 

"  Yes — too  well  to  let  that  woman  touch  her  ag'in 
if  I  kin  help  it !  "  The  fury  of  the  merciless  sea  was 
in  him  now — the  roar  and  pound  of  the  surf  in  his 
voice.  "  She'll  be  a  curse  to  the  child  all  her  days ; 
she'll  go  back  on  her  when  she's  a  mind  to  just  as 
she  did  on  Archie.  There  ain't  a  dog  that  runs  the 
streets  that  would  'a'  done  that.  She  didn't  keer 
then,  and  she  don't  keer  now,  with  him  a-lyin'  dead 
there.  She  ain't  looked  at  him  once  nor  shed  a  tear. 
It's  too  late.  All  hell  can't  stop  me!  Out  of  my 
wray,  I  tell  ye,  doctor,  or  I'll  hurt  ye !  " 

With  a  wrench  he  swung  back  the  doors  and  flung 
himself  into  the  light. 

"  Come  in,  men !  Isaac,  Green — all  of  ye — and 
you  over  there!  I  got  something  to  say,  and  I 
don't  want  ye  to  miss  a  word  of  it!  You,  too,  Mr. 
Eeilding,  and  that  lady  next  ye — and  everybody  else 
that  kin  hear ! 

"  That's  my  son,  Barton  Holt,  lyin'  there  dead ! 
The  one  I  druv  out  o'  here  nigh  twenty  year  ago. 
It  warn't  for  playin'  cards,  but  on  account  of  a 
woman ;  and  there  she  stands — Lucy  Cobden !  That 
dead  boy  beside  him  is  their  child — my  own  grand 
son,  Archie !  Out  of  respect  to  the  best  woman  that 
ever  lived,  Miss  Jane  Cobden,  I've  kep'  still.  If 
anybody  ain't  satisfied  all  they  got  to  do  is  to  look 
over  these  letters.  That's  all !  " 

Lucy,  with  a  wild,  despairing  look  at  Max,  had 
420 


THE    CLAW    OF    THE    SEA-PUSS 

sunk  to  the  floor  and  lay  cowering  beneath  the  life 
boat,  her  face  hidden  in  the  folds  of  her  cloak. 

Jane  had  shrunk  back  behind  one  of  the  big  fold 
ing  doors  and  stood  concealed  from  the  gaze  of  the 
astonished  crowd,  many  of  whom  were  pressing  into 
the  entrance.  Her  head  was  on  the  doctor's  shoul 
der,  her  fingers  had  tight  hold  of  his  sleeve.  Doctor 
John's  arms  wrere  about  her  frail  figure,  his  lips  close 
to  her  cheek. 

"  Don't,  dear — don't,"  he  said  softly.  "  You  have 
nothing  to  reproach  yourself  with.  Your  life  has 
been  one  long  sacrifice." 

"  Oh,  but  Archie,  John !  Think  of  my  boy  being 
gone !  Oh,  I  loved  him  so,  John !  " 

"  You  made  a  man  of  him,  Jane.  All  he  was  he 
owed  to  you."  He  was  holding  her  to  him — com 
forting  her  as  a  father  would  a  child. 

"  And  my  poor  Lucy,"  Jane  moaned  on,  "  and 
the  awful,  awful  disgrace !  "  Her  face  was  still 
hidden  in  his  shoulder,  her  frame  shaking  with  the 
agony  of  her  grief,  the  words  coming  slowly,  as  if 
wrung  one  by  one  out  of  her  breaking  heart. 

"  You  did  your  duty,  dear — all  of  it."  His  lips 
were  close  to  her  ear.  ~No  one  else  heard. 

"  And  you  knew  it  all  these  years,  John — and  you 
did  not  tell  me  ?  " 

"  It  was  your  secret,  dear ;  not  mine." 

"  Yes,  I  know — but  I  have  been  so  blind — so  fool- 
421 


THE    TIDES    OF   BAKNEGAT 

ish.  I  have  hurt  you  so  often,  and  you  have  been 
so  true  through  it  all.  O  John,  please — please  for 
give  me!  My  heart  has  been  so  sore  at  'times — I 
have  suffered  so !  " 

Then,  with  a  quick  lifting  of  her  head,  as  if  the 
thought  alarmed  her,  she  asked  in  sudden  haste : 

"  And  you  love  me,  John,  just  the  same  ?  Say 
you  love  me,  John !  " 

He  gathered  her  closer,  and  his  lips  touched  her 
cheek : 

"  I  never  remember,  my  darling,  when  I  did  not 
love  you.  Have  you  ever  doubted  me  ?  " 

"  No,  John,  110 !  !N"ever,  never !  Kiss  me  again, 
my  beloved.  You  are  all  I  have  in  the  world !  " 


THE    END 


422 


BOOKS  BY  F.  HOPKINSON  SMITH 

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LD  21-10077i-l,'54(1887sl6)476 


